


Those Who Harp

by WingFeathers



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Forgotten Realms, Waterdeep: Dragon Heist - Fandom
Genre: (i think), Angst and Romance, Bards, Bisexual Male Character, Broken Engagement, Broken Promises, Class Issues, Coming of Age, Cult of Asmodeus, Deal with a Devil, Drinking, Dungeons & Dragons Pantheons, Eventual Happy Ending, Everyone is gay in Waterdeep, Family Secrets, Friends to Lovers, Friends to Lovers to Exes to Friends to Lovers to Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, M/M, Magic, Nobility, On-Again/Off-Again Relationship, Open Relationships, Secrets, Teen Romance, Underage Drinking, Watching Your Ex Steal All Your Goals In Life, Waterdeep, commitment issues, it's complicated - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:21:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 78,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25267513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WingFeathers/pseuds/WingFeathers
Summary: Alsendur Majarra, a young noble of Waterdeep, wants nothing more than to play music, be a bard, and maybe, if he's lucky enough, to join the society of the Harpers.  But destiny has a funny way of twisting your plans, and Alsendur's destiny becomes inextricably entwined with that of his best friend and first love, Geth Melshimber, as they grow up, find their own power, and navigate alliances and betrayals in a dangerous city of intrigue.
Relationships: Original D&D Character(s)/Original D&D Character(s)
Comments: 39
Kudos: 8





	1. Flamerule 1488

**Author's Note:**

> This is set mostly prior to the events of Waterdeep: Dragon Heist in the Forgotten Realms setting, though it is written with an assumption of no FR knowledge and it may also broach spoilers for the "summer" version of the module.
> 
> (And don't worry, I have not abandoned my DC works in progress!)

THE SEA'S EDGE

5 Flamerule 1488

_Scherzando_

Alsendur traced a finger through the damp sand, humming a theme from the minuet he’d been practicing. The sun’s rays beat heavily on his shoulders and black hair, but it was welcome heat after days of overcast rain.

A wave crept up and licked the soles of his feet. 

“I’m going in,” he announced.

“Does that mean you want _me_ to?” Geth Melshimber had stretched his lithe frame out across the blanket, letting his sandy waves of hair fall across the glimmering blue cotton that had stayed unnaturally dry even on the wet beach. He raised one arm to shield his face from the sun as he looked up at Alsendur. “I will if I _have_ to.”

“You don’t have to. Stay. I’ll be back.”

“That’s okay,” Geth said, standing up and offering a hand.

Alsendur shrugged and let Geth help pull himself up.

“You really don’t have to come,” he said, as they walked further into the gently sloping depth. “I know you don’t like going in the water.”

“No, I don’t,” Geth said, still dragging Alsendur along even as the water splashed around their ankles. “It’s disgusting. People _pee_ in here, and there are _fish_ , and _stinging things_ , but I’ll do it for you.”

A wave crashed at their knees, and Alsendur smiled. He looked out at the water, back at Geth, and grinned wide. “Then we’re going all the way in.”

“No, wait, I–”

“Race ya,” Sen said, taking off, dashing into the surf until the water was deep enough to dive in. He emerged, dripping with sea water, and flung his sopping hair back behind his head. Wiping his eyes, he saw Geth splash up next to him with a furious expression.

“What?”

“This is not–” Geth said, turning away as a tall wave crashed into them and sprayed in his face. “Not what I agreed to! Now my hair is half wet!”

“I can fix that for you.”

“No, don’t you d–”

His words turned into a yelp as Sen dragged him under. It was only a half-second, long enough to soak his head, but Geth was sputtering and shoved him.

“You bastard!”

“It’s just _water_.”

Geth’s face twisted in anger. “I said _don’t_ . Are you _deaf_ or an _asshole_?”

A wave came up and crashed into them both, and before Alsendur could respond, Geth threw up his arms and shouted, “Ugh, fucking _waves_. I’m going back. Go ahead and drown for all I care.”

“Oh, come _on_ , Geth!”

Geth plodded forward, ignoring him, and Alsendur pushed his way against the water, splashing through to catch up.

“Sorry! How about a rematch? Race back.”

“No. No _racing_.”

Alsendur jumped forward as a wave pushed them along. “Because you’ll know I’ll win? Whoever wins gets the blanket.”

That was all it took. “You’re going _down_ , Majarra,” Geth taunted.

“Ready, set–”

Geth took off, and Alsendur bounded behind him. Sen _was_ faster, but he started from behind–and as he closed the distance, a sharp heel rammed into his knee, tripping him and knocking him into the water. He scrambled up, sprinting out of the shallows and across the sand, sending sand spraying everywhere as he overtook Geth and threw himself down at the edge of the blanket. 

“Seriously? You couldn’t just let me win?”

Alsendur shook his head but moved aside and sat in the sand. “No, but you can have the blanket.”

Geth eyed the blanket warily and then looked Alsendur over.

“I shouldn’t have pushed you in the water. I’m sorry.”

“Oh.” Geth dropped onto the blanket. “Whatever. I was being a baby.”

“Still,” said Alsendur, digging his fingers into the damp sand. “You said not to. Doesn’t matter why.”

“That’s true.” Geth looked over Alsendur, considering his words, and then nodded solemnly. The faintest hint of a smile crossed his lips. “Apology accepted. Now stop beating yourself up and get off that gross sand.”

“Nah, I’m good.”

“Fine, suit yourself,” Geth huffed and lay himself back down on the blanket, sprawled out to dry off in the sun. “Wake me up before I burn, will you? My fool ancestors just _had_ to shack up with parchment-pale Illuskans, and now I’m cursed.”

Alsendur laughed, though he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Geth _burn_ without being in the sun for hours on end, even if he was on the fair side for a Tethyrian. “I’ll do my best.”

He leaned back, pressing his palms into the sand, watching the sunlight dance on the encroaching waves, listening to the delicate harmony of surf and chatter punctuated by occasional shrieks of children and cries of gulls.

“I heard a song that made me think of you,” Geth said, seeming to forget that he had been annoyed only a minute earlier. Or maybe that was the point. A verbal _all clear_. “About a Harper.”

Sen linked his hands around his knees and dragged himself to better see Geth, who propped himself up with one elbow and dropped his hand to support himself.

“Not a harpist-harper,” Geth clarified. “A _Harper-_ Harper.”

“I figured,” Alsendur said, nodding, though it was a fair clarification, given his equally obsessive interests in both the harp and _Those Who Harp_ , the not-so-secret secret organization of bards and wizards who used their magic and wiles to stop evil powers from oppressing Faerun. “Who?”

“Kestrel-something. No, wait, Mestrel? Hawk? Something bird-like. He’s long dead, whatever his name was.”

“Good song, if you can’t even remember the name of its hero.”

“It’s not like the spy’s name was _in the song_ ,” Geth said, wrinkling his nose. “Dead or not.”

“Then how’d you know it?”

“Tasheene told me," he said, as if invoking his older sister's name would give him an air of authority. She'd made her debut and was a fully fledged adult noble and the heir of House Melshimber, so it was hard to argue. Still...

“How would _Tasheene_ know?”

Geth raised an eyebrow. “How does anyone know anything?”

“All right, Great Wise One, do you remember anything else from the song, or was that your whole story?”

“I remember plenty! _A man of keen luck and quick wits, thrust into a dangerous world_ , blah blah blah, but then he went undercover in Thay. He was tracking a Thayan agent, see.” Geth pushed to sit fully up now, turning away from the sun so it silhouetted him, with only a ring of golden curls left in full color. He continued, leaning in slightly and recounting the story like juicy gossip rather than a story of a long-dead stranger. “So he took a job as a guard protecting a caravan that the agent was also travelling on, and they travelled right into an ambush that the Thayan bastard had himself arranged. Now, Kestrel or Mestrel or whatever the Harper’s name was, he escaped, within an inch of his life.”

Alsendur bit his lip in anticipation. Of course, all the songs had adventurers escaping death just by a hair, and it was surely not always so close a call–but then, many others died, with no one to tell their stories or with the greatest stories of all. “What happened?” he prompted.

Geth grinned, clearly enjoying having his small audience. “Well, he trailed the spy and the brigands who attacked them–only they weren’t brigands at all. They were _slavers_.”

“Oh, _shit_.” It wasn't actually a surprise. The bad guys always seemed to be slavers in these songs and stories.

“Exactly. While the slavers were arguing over their spoils in their greed, our Harper friend snuck in and freed all of the captives, who took up arms and rose up, throwing the whole camp into chaos. The Harper, of course, struck down many of the slavers himself, but the Thayan agent escaped, and our heroic bard snuck after him, following him all the way across Thay until they reached the agent’s superior.” Geth leaned in, and a smile crept across his face, waiting to be prompted to continue.

“And?”

“Now he had him, right? He used a secret Harper code to contact another Harper, a wizard from Suzail, who came to his aid and used his arcane arts to pry the truth from the superior’s mind…” He reached his hand out and began to massage his fingers into Alsendur’s scalp in a demonstration, but Alsendur writhed free and swatted his hand away.

“You’ve got _sand_ in my _hair_!” he whined. He deserved it, probably, for getting Geth’s hair wet earlier, but sand would be a complete hassle to get out.

Geth waggled his eyebrows, saying, “Better than _magic_ in your _brain_.” 

He relaunched his attack with full force, but Alsendur was prepared this time: he wrapped his fists around each of Geth’s wrists, holding them in place as he flipped Geth onto the blanket.

Geth let out triumphant cackle despite being pinned down. “Too late,” he said, in a terrible Suzailan accent, “we know all your secrets now. Now you die.”

He slipped one hand free and ran a fingernail across Alsendur’s neck as he wrested free, tossing Sen into the cool sand. 

“And that was the last of the Thayan superior.”

A stronger wave swept up, creeping around to Sen’s waist, and he gave up, letting himself get pulled further into the sand and surf. “I _told_ you the Harpers are amazing,” he said.

“That wasn’t even the whole story,” Geth said. “That original agent was still alive, remember? There was a very long bit about what they learned from the superior–details about trafficking rings, and how they drugged idle young sons of wealthy merchants into slumber. So Kestrel-Mestrel-Bard tipped off lords of Westgate _and a_ group of pirates, while he himself hired his own ship and sailed with a crew of novice Harper Watchers and desperate adventurers. They lurked behind the slaver ship, which of course the pirates attacked, and then the _Harper_ ship attacked the pirate ship, slew the crew and the slavers in an intense battle that took up about three verses, and then finally sailed the ship of freed captives to safety.” 

“How do you not want to be part of something like that?” Alsendur asked, looking up at Geth, though he was little more than a shadow in front of the sun. “You and I could do that–sail off on the wide sea, laying slavers low, freeing the downtrodden…”

“I get seasick,” Geth said, laying back down on his blanket. “And anyway, do you realize how many times Kestrelhawk could’ve died? I don’t want to _die_ , Sen. Or tromp around foreign lands.”

“Even if you could save people from slavers and tyrants?”

“Oh, Sen,” he sighed, turning his head to the side, “do I _look_ like someone who wants to risk my life saving ungrateful mobs?”

Sen wasn’t aware that bravery came with a specific appearance, but if anyone looked the part of a wily bard who could sweet-talk someone into giving away their secrets, it was Geth.

“The answer is no,” Geth answered. “I want to live a nice, long, _happy_ life in Waterdeep.”

“Oh yeah? You’d be happy even if I were in some far-off foreign land?”

Geth’s face twisted as if tasting something sour and swept his hand off the blanket, flinging sand over Alsendur’s face. 

“Hey!” 

“ _Hey_ yourself! What a fucked up thing to say. You can’t _leave_ me here.”

“So then–”

“You’ll stay here too. You _have_ to. I _forbid_ you to leave the city for anything longer than a winter. It’s the most civilized city in Faerun and you belong in it.”

Alsendur opened his mouth to object–all he wanted in life was to be a Harper bard, and he would go wherever that path took him–but that was a problem many years off from now. And he knew Geth well enough to know that his bossy commands usually hid some more kind-hearted sentiment that he would never admit. So _play me a song_ really meant _I think you’re very talented_ , and _get off the gross sand_ meant _you’re too far away_ , and _I forbid you to leave Waterdeep_ meant _I need you by my side_. 

“Well, I’m sure the Harpers have plenty of evil to fight within the city, anyway,” Alsendur compromised.

“Good, it’s settled, then,” Geth said. He turned over onto his chest, leaving a wide space on the blanket, and settled his face onto his arms. “Now come sit on the blanket like a civilized human and let me nap.”

That was an easier demand to accept than staying in Waterdeep. Smiling to himself, Sen toweled off the spray and sand and lay down on the soft blanket, closing his eyes and letting the sun dry the rest.

* * *

A LESSON IN MUSIC

19 Flamerule 1488

_Ritenuto_

Alsendur’s thumb slipped off the string too quickly, and he swore under his breath. He placed it back on the string, placed his other three fingers, and tried the run again.

Better.

But not perfect. He tried again. And again. And again.

“Holy hells, Sen,” Adrienne interrupted. “I think you’ve got it.”

He shook his head, closed his eyes, and tried it again.

“I messed up in my lesson today,” he said, feeling the tension of the strings. “Elendriel said I had to get it right tomorrow, so–”

He played it again.

“Oh no, perfect Sen got a note wrong!”

Alsendur sighed, stilled the strings, and turned to face his adoptive sister. “I’m not _perfect_ . I’m just… better than _that_. I haven’t been able to focus, and if Elendriel thinks I’m not practicing, he’ll drop me as a student.”

He’d only started lessons with the master harper a year ago, and it had taken three auditions, two interviews, and a sizable gift of gold to even convince the Sun Elf to take on a human pupil.

“Elendriel is an arrogant racist who makes all elves look bad,” Adrienne said, setting aside a book that she’d clearly given up trying to read. “You’ve _seen_ how he looks at me. Like I’m some aberration of nature just because I’m a half-elf.”

“Yeah, he’s a total dick,” Sen admitted, “But he’s also the best teacher in miles. And he thinks I’m distracted.”

“Are you?”

Alsendur furrowed his brow. He set the harp upright and spun on his chair. “I don’t know _how_ . All I think about is music. I dropped the lute, because Elendriel thought the technique was throwing me off, and I don’t even play the lyre much, except for… you know, a _break_. I go out with you and our friends sometimes–”

“And spend half the time watching the musicians,” she noted.

“Exactly.”

“What- _ever_ could be distracting you, then?” she asked, in a mocking sort of tone that suggested they both knew exactly the thing and were dancing around it as some sort of _game_ and not a serious matter.

“Great-Aunt Jhess and I are only meeting once a week, and that hardly takes up much of my time,” he said. “She’s given me reading, but it’s not like I can even do any of the spells yet, so–”

“I didn’t mean Great-Aunt _Jhess_ ,” Adrienne said with a laugh.

Alsendur shook his head. “Then…”

“I don’t know, Sen. What were you thinking about when you messed up during your lesson?”

Alsendur looked back at the harp and bit his lip. The truth of it was he’d been half-lost in thought. Halfway through his lesson, a strong ocean breeze had blown into the room and brought with it a vivid memory of the beach, of Geth’s body pinned beneath his, pretending to extract his thoughts and cut his throat, and Alsendur had then spent the rest of the lesson trying to play while using every bit of his willpower to think about something as repulsive as possible, like Aunt Lassail yelling at him for spending too much on his Founder’s Day outfit or the first time he drank so much that he puked, though then his mind had drifted to how Geth’s Founder’s Day costume had been distractingly tight and how Geth had held back his hair as he threw up and stroked his back to soothe him, so he’d tried to think of something else, like the smell of garbage on the Waterdeep streets in the summer.

It had been mentally exhausting, and then he’d messed up the stupid run that he should’ve known backwards and forwards and half-asleep.

“I don’t know what you’re implying,” he finally said.

Adrienne rolled her eyes. “When we’re out, you spend half your time staring at whatever minstrel is playing, and the _other_ half your time undressing Geth with your eyes.”

“I do _not_!”

“Don’t _lie_ , Sen. I’m with you guys _all_ the time.”

Alsendur swore under his breath again. “Is it that obvious?”

She shook her head. “I don’t think _he_ ’s noticed, because he’s so self-absorbed. And I don’t think Vera’s caught on either. But it’s only a matter of time.”

Sen groaned, letting his head fall back to see the glimmering silver-trimmed ceiling. “What do I do?”

“I don’t know, Sen. Suck it up? Or tell him how you feel.”

“I don’t _feel_ anything,” Alsendur said, sitting back up and looking at his sister. “Not romantically, I mean. He’s my _friend_. He’s just... really...”

Adrienne shook her head.

“... _really_ hot,” Sen finished, his voice strained.

“And he _knows_ it,” she said.

“Yeah,” Sen agreed. “Which means he knows how to flaunt it, and it’s _killing_ me, because I don’t want to _do_ anything, because we’re friends, but I can’t stop _thinking_ about it.”

She sighed and crossed her legs on the couch, taking a long sip of a glass of sweetened tea. “Maybe you need to hook up with someone else. Geth isn’t the only attractive person our age. I’ve seen you turn totally stupid around _plenty_ of other people.”

Alsendur grimaced. “Sure, but… I don’t want a relationship. That’s the point. You know that I–”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re married to your harp, got it. I didn’t mean a _relationship_. Just… hook up with someone.”

“I don’t want to just have some meaningless fling.”

“You don’t want a relationship, but you don’t want a meaningless fling.”

Alsendur suddenly became very interested in the rug. “Well, yeah. Those aren’t the _only_ options.”

“Then _what_?”

“There are _romantic_ flings. Remember Trievi?” Sen smiled at the memory of the Tethyrian girl–his first kiss. “We met on the beach, totally by accident. Her family was going back to Neverwinter after a week, so it was always going to be short. But it wasn’t _meaningless_.”

Adrienne nodded. “Sure. But that’s pretty unique. We’re not on winter holiday.”

“I know.” Alsendur sighed. “That’s my point, though. You can’t _force_ a romantic fling. They just happen, spontaneously. That’s what makes them _romantic_.”

Adrienne poured more sugar into her tea and stirred it, letting the tinkling sound of metal on glass accompany her words as she continued. “Maybe you two just want to be friends with benefits. You know, nothing changes, but you resolve the tension without big drama. I don’t want _drama_ , Sen.”

“I don’t either. But I don’t think he wants that. Not from me.”

Adrienne raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“He’s made a move on everyone else that he finds attractive, and not me, so… no.” It didn’t _hurt_ , exactly, but it was hardly a boost to the ego. “But it doesn’t matter,” he said, gathering himself. “I don’t want that either. We’ve always been friends and I don’t want to change that. This is just a stupid physical thing. Hormones.”

“Then maybe it’s time to pray to Sune for some other option,” she said, picking up her glass again. 

He did pray, later that night. Not to Sune, though the goddess of love would’ve been a perfectly logical choice. Instead, he prayed to Milil. Who, admittedly, was not the _best_ of all gods to ask relationship advice of, given his reputation for flirting unabashedly with anyone attractive–divine or mortal–but he was the only god Alsendur felt comfortable praying to over something so totally _stupid_ and yet so personal and important. And ultimately, this was about his music. Nothing else.

He pulled his lap harp over to the corner of his room, where he had set up a small shrine to the god of music and poetry. It only had a painting, not a full statue, but Alsendur felt a little more at peace in front of the image of the god, an attractive young man playing a harp, with a smile tugging at his lips. 

He began to play a simple, meditative arpeggio, and voiced his prayer in an improvised chant, though it fell quickly into rambling.

“Oh, Lord of Song, please look upon me and give me aid. I know this is beneath you, but I don’t know what to do. My music is everything–it gives me breath, it quenches my thirst, it directs my whole life. My goals are simple: to play harp and be a bard. And, maybe, join the Harpers and help them, as you helped them once. But I can’t play like this. I’m so _distracted_ , and I’ve always stayed away from relationships and all the drama of it because I can’t afford the distraction, but Geth is my friend and I can’t get away from that. But I can’t do anything about it either. And I… I don’t know what to do.”

He was an idiot and the god was going to think he was an idiot. So instead, he just played.

He stayed playing there for at least an hour, until he found himself falling asleep over his harp. Finally, he set it down and curled up on the floor, too tired to crawl across the room into his bed.

He was in his bed, though, somehow, and Geth’s voice whispered in his ear: “Put it in.”

Alsendur groaned sleepily–just another intrusive fantasy. _Exactly_ what he’d needed. But then Geth was shaking him, in a not _at all_ sexy way, and Sen snapped up. “What’s going on?”

Geth was sitting there, cross-legged on the corner of the bed, holding his harp. “Put it. Into. Your music.” He pushed the harp into Alsendur’s hands.

“Put _what_ into my music? Why are you here, Geth?”

“You want to do me, right?”

“No! What? No!” Alsendur sputtered, fully awake now. He set the harp down and held his hands up in protest. “I do _not_ . I don’t know _what_ –”

“Alsendur, do not _lie_ to me,” Geth said, like it was the most boring thing in the world. “I _know_. And you are a terrible liar. Has anyone ever told you that?”

“Yeah. You. All the time.”

Geth laughed, a melodious peal that almost made Sen laugh along with it, but he didn’t actually find anything very funny. “Well, it is _true_. And a little embarrassing, actually.”

“What’s going on?” Alsendur asked. “What are you doing here?”

“ _Rude_ ,” Geth said, in a way that sounded more _Geth_ than anything else in this strange encounter. “I am trying to help you. You _do_ know how much music is about wanting someone who is unavailable?”

Alsendur shook his head. “I don’t–”

“Show me your music.”

“Sorry?” 

“Your music, Alsendur. What are you learning right now?”

“The… _The Maiden of Trossingyr_ ,” he answered. He’d heard it at a tavern recently and had been trying to figure it out.

“Oh, I like that one! About a man in love with his enemy’s daughter.”

“Right.”

“What about with your teacher? The elf.”

Alsendur squinted. “Elendriel is teaching me an old elven song. _Silverstar and Ironwood_.”

Geth nodded knowingly. “You know, the composer wanted to sleep with a dwarf, but obviously that was off-limits for an elf like him.”

“I didn’t know you knew it?” Of course, this _felt_ like a dream, and anyone in a dream would know everything Sen knew.

“Of _course_ I do. Alsendur, we could do this all day.” Dream-Geth jumped off the bed, crossed to where Sen kept his old sheet music, and began thumbing through pages. “A friend. A friend’s wife. A dead man. A ghost. An enemy combatant. Another friend’s wife. Someone who just was… not interested. A criminal condemned to die. A student, who later rejected the composer. You see the pattern?”

Alsendur opened his mouth, too confused by Geth’s sudden knowledge to answer the question, but Geth moved on, tapping his finger on the spines of Alsendur’s books.

And then one flew at this head.

“Tsaer Ellarion,” Geth announced. Alsendur’s favorite poet. The poetry was almost haunting, but beautiful, and not remotely romantic. The poems told of adventure, and magic, and progress, and loss, and divine power, not spurned lovers.

“Yeah, he–”

“It all _sounds_ like philosophy,” Geth said, almost reading his mind, “but he threw himself into magic and faith because he was grief-stricken over his lover, who had gone completely mad. Do you _see_?

“It’s all… about _love_?”

Geth waved a dismissive hand. “Too generous. More like… _repressed feelings_ . At least _half_ of the best of my art comes from people needing some way to channel desires that have no other outlet. Do you understand _now_?”

Alsendur nodded. “Yes, I under–sorry, _your_ art?”

“Oh, _Alsendur_.”

Which was all wrong. Geth never called him _Alsendur_ like that. But then Geth was next to him again, practically _in_ his lap. 

“You put so much of this into your music,” he said, touching Sen’s head, which suddenly felt clear and alert. “And sometimes, though not _enough_ of the time, you pour this in as well.” He put his hands over Sen’s heart, which felt full and beat calmly–far too calmly. 

And then he slid one hand between Alsendur’s legs, and Sen’s clear-handed calm-hearted state vanished. “You stop fighting against this, and put some of it into your music too, and be in good company,” he said, drawing his hand back. “Do you _understand_ now? What you need to do?”

“Yes,” Sen said, still reeling. It made no sense, touching him like that and then questioning him. It wasn’t even a very good _dream_ . “Why are you _telling_ me this?”

Geth gave a pitying smile and thumbed Alsendur’s chin. “Because I _like_ you.”

Alsendur squinted. It wasn’t said like a confession of attraction. More like the tone of how a mentor would praise their young protégé. “Thank... you?”

“You really _are_ a good kid, Alsendur.”

That was the most jarring thing yet. “I–what?”

Geth laughed, shook his head, and climbed off the bed, walking toward the door.

And that’s when it finally hit Alsendur. The somewhat formal speech, the way Geth kept calling him _Alsendur_ and not _Sen_ , the impossible knowledge, the unabashed flirtation–

“Holy fuck,” he whispered under his breath, and then threw himself out of bed, scrambling to kneel behind not-Geth. “Are you–”

Geth-not-Geth turned around, and his hair was a little darker now, his features a little softer, looking more and more like the image in the painting at Sen’s shrine.

Alsendur’s eyes went wide. “Lord _Milil_ ,” he whispered. “Why are you here?”

“You asked for help,” he said simply. “You have a long road ahead of you, Alsendur. This is a _very_ small hurdle, but you cannot let your music suffer.”

“Th-thank you,” Sen said, too awestruck to say much else, but then the vision of Milil bent down to pick up the cast-aside harp, and Sen said, “Wait!”

Milil waited, one eyebrow arched.

“I’m sorry, I don’t want to interrupt you. But... what do I do about my friend?” Somehow, he’d almost forgotten.

“You mean the friend who is less attractive, less witty, _and_ less talented than me?”

“Um. Well... yes?” Alsendur’s face screwed up in confusion. It wasn’t as if he could just stop being attracted to someone who was there next to him all the time just because a _god_ was _more_ attractive.

“Whatever you do, Alsendur, it will hurt. There is no _good_ choice. Do what you will, but put the desire and hurt you feel into your music. That will always lead you in the right direction.” Before Sen could say anything else, Milil’s hands began to pluck a short melody. It was the most perfect thing Alsendur had ever heard, so perfect that he forgot how discouraging Milil’s words had been.

And then he woke up, on the floor of his room, with no one in sight, with morning light streaming in through the windows. It had just been a dream, albeit the _weirdest_ dream that he had _ever_ had. He wasn’t even sure how to describe it–a fantasy? a revelation? He was covered in sweat, and he couldn’t shake the feeling of Geth’s–no, _Milil’s_ –hand sliding up his leg, but his head felt clearer than it had in a long time. 

He picked up the harp that lay at his side, eager to get down the melody still echoing from the dream–a new hymn to Milil, perhaps. And when he touched the strings, the dream’s advice came back to him, too. There wasn’t any good answer about Geth, so he’d just have to let it go, put his friendship first. No complications, no drama. After all, he could handle a little repressed desire, as Milil had called it. It wouldn’t be a distraction. It would be _fuel_. 

He smiled, focused on the instrument, and began to play.


	2. Eleasis 1488

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's do lunch and definitely not talk about recent semi-traumatic events.
> 
> CW: Memories of a violent incident following rejection of sex (no rape, but still a form of sexual violence).

SALT AIR AND BITTER GREENS

7 Eleasis 1488

_Agitato_

A gentle breeze of salty air danced around the menus at the table–not that anyone here needed menus at the Silken Sylph. Despite the Majarras and Vera Amcathra all living in the North Ward, they had all made the trek across town to the Sea Ward wine bar plenty of times.

“What a day!” Geth said, sliding into a chair next to Alsendur.

“You’re ten minutes late,” Vera Amcathra scolded, in a voice she reserved only for Geth and her brother.

“Ten minutes I didn’t have to be assaulted by whatever _that_ is,” Geth bit back, pointing at Vera’s headband, a burst of vivid yellow silk flowers and black pearls nestled among her wavy brown hair.

“It’s called fashion, darling,” she said, holding a nasty face only for a second before she and Geth both burst into laughter.

“It’s a- _mazing_ ,” he said, leaning across to touch one of the flowers. “So! What did I miss?”

“Nothing,” Adrienne answered. She handed Geth one of the menus. “There was a wait, so we just sat down.”

Alsendur’s attention was snatched away from his friends’ bickering as a familiar frame entered his field of vision. The person turned to sit down, half-facing Alsendur, and Sen flinched. 

Pirran Jardeth.

Sen’s heart began to race and he looked down at his place setting, taking a deep breath. Everything was fine. He was fine. He’d _been_ fine, aside from a bloody nose, black eye, and wounded pride, but suddenly he was back in the moment, struggling on the ground, with no idea how far Pirran’s wrath would go.

Great-Aunt Jhess had told him to focus on present realities to stave off fear or panic, so he tried to focus on Geth’s voice, saying, “They wouldn’t have made you wait if _I’d_ been here.” But all he could see was Pirran Jardeth’s fist slamming into his face.

He looked up at Vera, who said, “But you weren’t here. Seriously, Geth, we’re literally in your backyard and you still got here after us. Maybe we should’ve just met in the North Ward.” 

But Pirran’s face–which should’ve been in the North Ward–was just past Vera’s, and his eyes suddenly caught Sen’s. Alsendur turned away, back to Geth, trying to block out the memory of Pirran pinning him down, saying, _You arrogant piece of shit_.

“But then I’d’ve been _twenty_ minutes late,” Geth argued. “And we wouldn’t have this lovely sea air.”

The sea air. Alsendur closed his eyes and breathed in the smell of salt and seaweed, letting it bring him back to better memories of walks through the Sea Ward, lazy days at Melshimber Villa, beach trips under summer sun.

But then he opened his eyes, and Jardeth was still there.

“Vera, switch with me,” he said, standing up and pulling out his seat.

“O...kay…” she said, standing and giving Adrienne a confused look. She moved to Sen’s seat alongside Geth, and Alsendur sat down next to his sister.

“You okay?” she mouthed.

He nodded and then looked down, picking up his spoon and testing his reflection in it. Nothing had changed since this morning, when he had applied the layers of makeup Great-Aunt Jhess had showed him would cover the dark purple bruise around his eye. _Good practice_ , she’d called it.

“Should I put in our order?” Adrienne asked.

“Sure,” Sen said, handing her his menu. “I’ll have the shrimp and bitter greens.”

“The usual,” Vera said, handing over hers.

Geth passed his back and said, “Surprise me.”

As soon as Adrienne left, Geth stood up and took her seat.

“What are you doing?” Vera asked.

“Getting away from _you_ ,” he joked. She mimed laughter, and he gestured at a patch of sunlight on his now-empty hair. “The sun was in my eyes.”

And then his hand swatted Alsendur’s shoulder. Sen jumped back, a little more than made sense.

“Whoa,” Geth said. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. You just startled me.”

“Is it _okay_ if I sit here? You look pissed.”

“Not pissed, sorry,” Sen said, forcing a smile. “Of course you can sit there.”

“All right then. You sure you aren’t… mad at me for something?”

Alsendur shook his head, realizing that it might’ve seemed that way. “No, not at all! I didn’t mean–”

“So,” Adrienne said, taking Geth’s old seat as if she’d been there the whole time, “Don’t all look at once, but Pirran _Jardeth_ is staring at us.”

“I noticed,” Geth said. “He was staring at _Sen_ , actually.”

Alsendur sank further into his seat, hearing Pirran’s voice saying, _You should be grateful, you arrogant piece of shit._ He took another deep breath of the sea air.

Vera leaned out to look past Alsendur and waved coyly at Pirran. “He used to be so scrawny, remember? But now… _wow_ . Talk about _puberty_. You could do worse, Sen.” 

“Not my type,” Alsendur said shortly. _An ape with the charisma of a dead fly_ , he’d said. Right to Pirran’s face. 

Geth turned back to look Pirran over, but Alsendur kicked him, whispering, “Can we not?”

“Why? Are you two–”

“No,” Sen snapped. The scene replayed, despite Sen’s best efforts to forget it: Pirran cornering him against the wall, Alsendur side-stepping out of the way. 

> _I know you want a piece of this, Majarra._
> 
> _I really don’t._
> 
> _What, are you fucking someone else?_
> 
> _No, but if I were, it wouldn’t be an–_

“Definitely not,” he added, interrupting the memory.

Geth’s eyebrows raised doubtfully. “If you say so.”

A waiter thankfully came up to the table and handed them a basket of warm bread and four small salads.

Alsendur took a piece of bread and tried to focus on the warmth of it in his hands, the smell of the fresh bake and taste of the honeyed butter. He kept slipping back into memory–the oppressive heat of the humid summer night, the sickly smell of sweat, the iron taste of his own blood.

He had to do better. He’d been fine for a few days, and now suddenly he was falling apart. Jhess said this would happen, that that was normal enough. But she’d also said that he would learn to manage it, that he would look torture and death in the face hundreds of times before reaching her age. 

> _You think I’d spend so much of my time teaching you if I thought a single traumatic incident would stop you forever? No. You can survive anything. You’re made to be an adventurer, Sen_ , she’d said. _Harper material._
> 
> _Are_ you _a_ _–_
> 
> _You know better than to ask that fool question, Alsendur Majarra._

“So.” Geth leaned over his salad, and smiled, a twinkle-eyed smile that usually preceded some kind of new gossip. “Guess who Mardon Hothemer was making out with at the Cassalanters’ garden party?”

Adrienne rolled her eyes. “Was it _Who Cares_ from House _Not-Me_?”

Geth ignored the remark. “It was _me_.”

A piece of bread lodged in Alsendur’s throat as he momentarily forgot how to swallow food properly. He threw his arm over his face as he coughed, and Vera handed him a glass of water.

“My _gods_ , Sen, are you okay?” Geth asked, as Alsendur attempted to drink the water.

He nodded, coughed once more, and took another sip of the water. “I’m fine. It’s fine.”

“You sure you aren’t _jealous_?” Geth needled.

“Just surprised,” Alsendur said. Not _just–_ the idea of Geth and Mardon made his skin crawl, though he couldn’t justify it. “I mean. Why?”

Geth shrugged. “Why not?”

“Because we still have two years until our debut, when you’re supposed to be a _new_ face, not someone who’s already made their way through every noble our age.”

As soon as he’d said it, he realized how awful it had sounded, but it was too late. Geth’s face twisted, lip curling into a snarl, eyes narrowing to pierce Alsendur. He opened his mouth to unleash a retort, but was cut off by Adrienne swatting at Alsendur.

“Don’t be so judgmental, Sen,” she argued. “Since when do you care about outdated standards like that anyway?”

He didn’t, usually, but something smarted thinking that Geth was hooking up with Mardon Hothemer while Sen was getting his ass kicked for _not_ hooking up Pirran Jardeth. It was stupid and unfair and one thing had nothing to do with the other, but that wasn’t how it felt. 

“I don’t care,” he lied. “Other people do. I’m just worried about Geth’s future, that’s all.”

“Uh _huh_ ,” Adrienne grunted.

“He’s right,” Vera agreed. “Maybe they shouldn’t care, but they _do_. That’s just how it is. If you want anyone to be excited about your debut, you have to make it count. Use these years to stir up curiosity, so everyone’s lining up to wine and dine you. If everyone’s already seen the play, why bother with opening night?”

“Maybe that’s how it is for _you_ people,” Geth said, in a haughty tone that they all unfortunately knew all too well, “but I hardly think anyone would care so much as turn down _this_ performance,” He gestured widely at his face and torso.

Something about the display was so comfortingly normal that Alsendur felt a little more himself. “You mean no one will turn down _this_ ,” he said, kicking at the coin purse that hung from Geth’s belt.

Geth smirked, leaned closer, and raised his eyebrows. “Come a little closer and I’ll show you what I mean.”

“Gross,” Vera said, as Adrienne groaned, “Get a room.”

Alsendur drew back, blushing, heart pounding in his chest. “I’m good,” he said. 

“Your loss,” Geth said, disengaging with a shrug and a smile. He reached out and nabbed a slice of bread from the basket at the center of the table. 

“I’m still confused. I thought Mardon tended towards… well, _not guys_ ,” Vera noted, veering the conversation back into safer waters. “Did I misread that?”

“You didn’t,” Geth admitted. “He’s all moony-eyed for Freda Snome, anyway. I mean, he wasn’t _sure_ , which is why he approached me. You can’t know without trying, can you?”

“You definitely can,” Vera retorted.

“I’m with Geth here,” Adrienne said, scraping butter onto another slice bread. “You have to use _these_ years to figure out who you are with the people who aren’t trying to size up your health and worth and breeding prospects like they do once you’ve been presented to Society.”

Geth clapped–quietly, but firmly–in support. “Yes!” he said. “Exactly.”

Vera scrunched her nose. “It’s not _all_ like that. Plenty of people fall in love and make their own matches during their Season. Maybe there are limited choices, but you still _have_ a choice.”

“Assuming your choice chooses you back,” Alsendur noted. Though Vera, of course, could safely assume as much. She was beautiful, well-bred, witty, kind, and from a family surpassed in reputation only by Houses Cassalanter and Melshimber. No one would turn down an offer from her. Including Alsendur, not that he was lining up to seek her hand.

“ _And_ assuming you fall in love with someone who also boosts your family’s reputation,” Adrienne added.

Vera put her fork down and picked up her water. “There’s usually some overlap between _people your parents approve of_ and _people you might want to marry_.”

“Sometimes there’s someone _else_ , though,” Adrienne noted, a little more softly than before. “You could fall in love with _anyone_.” Everyone at the table knew better than to jump into that hole and try to wrestle the demons of Adrienne’s father, who had run off with her mother and abandoned the Majarra family in a minor scandal. 

“I just want to be the one to choose,” Vera said. “I don’t think I could bear my parents choosing for me, but they trust that I’ll choose well.”

“Yeah, because you want to marry Osvaldo Cassalanter and they know it,” Geth remarked. “My parents have given me until age twenty. Tasheene gets until twenty-five, because _she’s_ more than a political bargaining chip.”

Vera raised an eyebrow. “And what’ll you do if you get to twenty? Accept their choice?”

“Course not,” Geth said. “That’s why we have a backup plan.” He elbowed Sen in the shoulder, and Sen, to his credit, only flinched a little bit this time, though his smile was a second delayed.

“Oh, please. Weren’t you like _twelve_ when you came up with that idea?” Adrienne asked.

“Yeah, but it’s not expired,” Geth said. “Right?”

He fixed his gaze on Alsendur, who nodded as he swallowed a bite of his salad. They’d promised each other, on no small number of occasions, that unless one of them were to fall wildly in love with a suitable match by the age of twenty, they would get engaged and marry each other, because a friend was better than a stranger picked by your parents. 

Of course, what constituted a _suitable match_ for Geth Melshimber, second child of one of the most wealthy and prestigious noble Houses of Waterdeep, was a thin list. Alsendur was lucky to make the cut on paper, but the Majarras had been having increasingly frequent conversations about finances and spending recently, and rumors were that the silver mines they relied on were not the plentiful sources of income they once were. The Melshimbers, unlike most people, knew it, because the Melshimbers knew _everything_ . Until now, Alsendur had assumed that he’d fallen off the _suitable match_ list for their only son, but maybe not.

“Right,” Sen finally said. “My mother would be thrilled, that’s for sure. Though that’s like… just in case . The chances of us _both_ being uncommitted after three Seasons is low.”

He really meant _the chances of Geth being uncommitted_. As a bard, Sen could get away with many more years without marrying, and the idea of getting married–for _life_ –only four years from now made his head swim. Not in a good way.

“Maybe not _that_ low,” Vera offered. “It’s a slim pool that wants to actually _marry_ a bard. No offense, Sen.”

Sen took full offense. It was one thing for him to not see himself committing and quite another to imply that he’d be _undesirable_ . “What’s _that_ supposed to mean?”

Vera offered a pitying smile. “It’s just… Grandmother always says there are three kinds of bards: the kind that steals your girl, the kind that dies, and the kind who are never home. None of whom make for a particularly happy marriage, do they?”

This wasn’t exactly news to Sen, but he still felt like he’d been dragged through the mud. Maybe Pirran had been right, that he should’ve been grateful for the attention of anyone who’d care.

“ _I’d_ be happy,” Geth said, his words cutting through the memory and bringing Alsendur back to the present. He angled himself slightly between Sen and Vera, as if he could protect Alsendur from her words–hardly knowing he’d already done enough. “That’s the point. Sen would obviously be the _third_ kind of bard, so then we both get to help our families without being stuck in some miserable situation.”

“He means _I_ help my family,” Alsendur clarified, “and _he_ gets all the benefits of a suitable match and all the freedom of being single.”

Vera raised her eyebrows again. “ _All_ the freedom?” she asked. Geth turned back to see his response.

Alsendur swallowed, suddenly very uncomfortable again. He wasn’t jealous, he told himself. But then, he’d never been very good at lying, even to himself. Something to work on before becoming a bard. “Yeah, of course,” he said, before hedging, “I mean, within reason.”

“Don’t worry, _darling_ ,” Geth said, winking, “I wouldn’t embarrass you by sleeping with anyone who matters. No nobles.”

“Right, that,” Sen agreed. “Festhall courtesans and escorts are fine, obviously.”

Vera said, “Well, you’re better than me. I don’t think I could be okay with that. Or with a husband who was always off fighting monsters instead of being with his children.”

“That’s why it’s a _backup_ plan,” Alsendur noted.

An unreadable flash of some emotion… annoyance? passed over Geth’s face. “Exactly, a backup,” he echoed. “Say, where’s our food? If my father knew–”

“I’ve got it,” Alsendur said, jumping up. He needed a break from all the talk of marriage prospects, and the waitstaff didn’t need to get scolded by the son of the co-owner of the wine bar. “If it’s not out soon after, then you can complain.”

Geth thought for a second and then nodded, settling back into his chair.

Sen put his napkin on his chair and pushed it in, stepping inside of the restaurant. It was cool inside, but the still air was stifling compared to the patio where they’d been. He walked up to the bar and flagged over a bartender.

“Just checking on our order,” he said. “We’re at the table outside, with Geth Melshimber.”

The bartender’s eyes went wide and she nodded. “I’m _so_ sorry,” she apologized. “I’ll check on that, right away.”

She vanished into the kitchen, and Alsendur drummed his fingers on the polished bar.

“So _he’s_ the reason? Melshimber?”

Alsendur’s body seized tight at the sound of the deep, nasally voice, all too close. He gritted his teeth and swallowed back bile. “ _You’re_ the reason,” Alsendur said cooly, not turning around. “I was pretty clear.”

Pirran’s profile showed up in Sen’s peripheral vision as he came alongside the bar. “So you wouldn’t mind if I get a turn, since he’s doing the rounds? I hear he’s... talented.”

Alsendur spun around, fire in his eyes, and snarled, “Don’t you _dare_.”

Before either could escalate the situation, the bartender’s voice called out, saying, “Mister Majarra? Your food’s ready.” Sen turned to see her holding four plates. “I’ll bring it over to you?”

“Thanks,” Alsendur said with a smile.

“And you, sir, can I get you anything?”

“Another glass of the ruby,” Pirran said.

She nodded, saying, “I’ll be right over with that, after I drop this off.”

As she ducked out around the bar to serve the food, Alsendur gathered his courage and looked Pirran in the eye. “If you so much as breathe on him, I’ll kick _your_ ass.”

Pirran laughed, loud and cruel. “I’d like to see you try,” he taunted, and then added, “The conceited twink’s all yours, don’t worry.” He punctuated his last word with a heavy condescending pat on Alsendur’s shoulder, which Sen swerved away from. “Look, here he is now.”

Alsendur turned around to see Geth approaching, and Pirran walked off, back to his table with Vorth Emveolstone, another noble his age.

“Sen?” Geth asked. “What the fuck was that?”

“Nothing.”

“Didn’t look like _nothing_. You were arguing _._ ” Geth crossed his arms, waiting for an explanation.

He could just tell him, unload all of it. Geth was his friend–his _best_ friend–and he’d want to know. But when Alsendur opened his mouth to explain it all, no words came out. He hadn’t told _anyone_ other than Great-Aunt Jhess, because whenever he replayed the course of events, he could hear the derision. _Why would you say that? You couldn’t fight back? Why turn down Pirran Jardeth at all?_

Alsendur shook his head. “He’s just an asshole, that’s all.”

“I don’t know why you’re lying to me,” Geth snapped. “If you’ve been getting in his pants, I don’t care _,_ because _why would I_ , but don’t _keep_ it from me, and don’t act all high and mighty about me and Hothemer while you were doing _Jardeth_.”

“You don't get it! He–”

“Whatever, Sen,” Geth said, waving a hand. “I don’t want to fight. Let’s just forget about this and go eat.”

Geth turned to go back to the table, and Alsendur caught his arm.

“ _What_?”

“I’m not _getting in his pants_. He was talking about you like you’re some highcoin-lad,” Alsendur said, somehow now angrier about that than anything else Pirran had done.

Geth’s eyebrows shot up and craned his neck to get a better look at Pirran outside. “Really? And how much does he think I’m worth, exactly?”

Sen put himself in front of Geth and shook his head. “Geth, don’t. Trust me. At least Mardon is your friend. Pirran thinks he’s _better_ than you.”

Geth considered that, his nostril flaring slightly. If there was one thing he liked more than attention, it was deference.

“Anyway, I sort of…” Alsendur scuffed the ground with his foot. “I sort of threatened to kick his ass if he touches you.”

Geth laughed at that too, but Geth’s laughter glimmered with joy instead of spite. “You did _not_!”

Alsendur nodded, totally seriously. “He was being disrespectful! He's an asshole.”

“Have you seen him, Sen? He looks like he could beat the _shit_ out of you.”

 _Looks like_. “Yeah. Well. Don’t make me find out firsthand.” _Again_.

Geth touched a hand to Sen’s chest, and Sen did his best to not jump back. “Thank you for defending my honor,” he said. If he noticed Alsendur’s heart pounding under his palm, he didn’t say anything about it before he dropped his hand. “Maybe you’re right. No more hookups this summer.”

Alsendur shook his head. “No, don’t change how you live for people like that.”

“It wouldn’t be for _him_ ,” Geth said with a smile that Alsendur couldn’t quite decipher. And then he waved a hand and jumped animatedly, saying, “Come on, let’s go back. Our lunch is getting cold, and you can't leave me with Vera and Adrienne alone.”

"Okay," Sen said.

They stepped forward, and Geth linked his arm in Alsendur’s. This time, Sen didn’t flinch at all.


	3. Eleint 1488

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harps and lutes and massive crushes on your best friend, oh my!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for microaggressions against non-human fantasy races, because Geth is like that.

A LESSON IN FORM

8 Eleint 1488

_Accelerando_

“You should teach me,” Geth said.

“Teach you?” Sen looked up from his book of poetry to see Geth running a finger down the silver strings of Alsendur’s harp. “Oh. I could _ask_ Elendriel, but he probably...”

“No,” Geth scoffed. “I don’t want some pretentious-ass pointy-eared fucker telling me what to do and treating me like an idiot just because I haven’t been alive three hundred years. _You_ should teach me. You’ve been playing what, eight years?”

“Ten,” he corrected.

“Ten years. You know what you’re doing. You’re brilliant on the harp. So... teach me.”

It was exactly the compliment needed to get to Sen, and they both knew it. 

“Okay, sure,” he agreed, looking back down at his book. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Geth still standing next to the harp. “Sorry, did you mean _now_?”

“Why wait?”

There wasn’t really a good answer to that, so Alsendur put the book down. “All right, then. But lesson one is form. If you don’t hold yourself, the harp, and your hands right, you’ll injure yourself.”

Geth looked skeptically between Alsendur and the harp. “I hardly think–”

“It’s not a joke,” Alsendur snapped. “Do you want me to teach you, or not?”

“Fine. _Form_ me.”

Alsendur shook his head and pointed to the chair that he used for playing. “First, sit.”

“That I can manage.” Geth sat, exhibiting the perfect posture of someone raised with constant pressure to look the part of a perfect noble.

“Good. Keep that posture. Never lean over to the harp–bring it to you.” Alsendur nodded toward the instrument. “Go ahead.”

Geth picked up the lap harp and awkwardly placed it on his knees, which he pressed together to try to provide some kind of stability.

Alsendur shook his head and crossed the room, returning with an adjustable stool and setting it in front of Geth. “No. You want it to fall right on your shoulder, not be so high you can’t reach the top strings. Here, let it rest on this stool.”

He slid the harp down until it reached the stool, which Sen loosened in order to adjust to the proper height. He looked up at Geth’s shoulders, which a gauzy white fabric clung to in the sticky heat, and his slender neck, which glistened faintly with salty sweat. Geth ran his free hand through his hair, pushing back the sun-kissed curls that were falling in front of his eyes.

And then those striking eyes fell on Alsendur.

“Hello? Sen?”

“Sorry, yeah,” Sen said, turning back to the stool and adjusting it. “Just zoned out. Sorry.”

“Mm,” Geth hummed, somewhere between amusement and annoyance. “So I just rest it on the stool?”

“For now,” Alsendur said. “But let it fall between your knees.” Pushing back a sudden rush of adrenaline, he lightly moved Geth’s closer knee so the soundbox had just enough room to rest. “That’s better.”

“Do I get to play now?” Geth asked.

Alsendur grimaced. “Almost. We just need to fix your hands. Thumbs up, fingers down, pinkie tucked in. Like this.” He stood up and demonstrated in the air, and Geth copied him. “Now, loosen that a bit. You want it relaxed, like… like you’re holding a small, fragile butterfly that you want to keep, but not crush.”

“I don’t hold small, fragile butterflies very often,” Geth remarked, looking carefully between Alsendur’s hands and his own. “But if you say so.”

“Okay, now you can place. Your thumb goes on the black string, there, and then three fingers–pinkie tucked–and then your other thumb, three fingers… like that.”

Sen once again reached over to help Geth place his fingers, which probably wasn’t strictly _necessary_ , but it wasn’t _unnecessary_ either. He took a step back and looked Geth’s form over. It was near perfect–though that was easy enough to do without playing at all.

“Relax your shoulders. Breathe.”

“How do I look?” Geth asked, after he’d done as Alsendur instructed.

Sen smiled. “Like the Lord of Song himself.”

Geth rolled his eyes and smirked ever-so-slightly, but he didn’t dispute the compliment.

“Now, when you pluck the strings, make sure your finger tucks _all_ the way in, until you have a fist. Go on. Slowly, one note at a time.”

Geth did as he was told, though some notes rang clear and some were muted, and there was no steady rhythm. Alsendur had trouble remembering what it was like to learn basics like that.

“Good, but…” He approached Geth, and again his heart began racing like he was about to rush into a battle. He ignored it–again–and reached out to correct Geth’s posture: elbows down, shoulders back, head straight. Every touch was like a little shock of lightning, but an inviting one. “Try again.”

Geth went to place his fingers, turning his neck to do so.

“Look with your eyes, not your head,” Alsendur said, straightening Geth’s chin again and leaving his finger under his chin as a guide for a second as Geth played the run a second time. It wasn’t all strictly _necessary_ , but Sen couldn’t help himself.

“Better?” Geth asked, letting his eyes rise from the strings and turning his head away from the harp to look at Sen, who hastily dropped his hand.

“Better.”

“This is _very_ uncomfortable.”

Alsendur jumped back. “Sorry, I didn’t–”

“Maybe I need a simpler instrument. Something you just pick up and feels more natural.”

The harp. He meant the _harp_ was uncomfortable. Sen nodded. “I mean, the harp isn’t _complicated_ , but… no, it’s not very _natural_ if you aren’t used to it. It gets better with practice.”

“I don’t really love _practicing_ things.”

Sen laughed. “Then any instrument will be a headache, Geth. Maybe pipes?”

Geth scrunched his nose. “Have you _seen_ people play pipes? They look ridiculous.” He demonstrated, puffing up his cheeks and going cross-eyed. “No, thank you.”

“If you just want to _look_ good, then just get a lute.”

“Brilliant,” Geth said, handing the harp to Alsendur. “I’ll learn the lute. Can you teach me that, too?”

Alsendur shook his head. “I haven’t played in years. And never well enough to teach.”

Geth waved his hand. “I believe in you. I’ll get a lute, and you can figure it out so you can teach me.”

“But–”

“It’s settled.” Geth crossed the room, leaving the harp in Alsendur’s arms and picking up the book of poetry. “What’s this you were reading, anyway?”

“Tsaer Ellarian,” he said.

“It's in Elvish.”

“Yes, some of us read languages that aren’t Common.”

Geth lowered the book and sneered. “I can read other languages. I just don’t sit around reading poems in other languages for _fun_. I’m happy to leave that to the bone-dull sages who work for my father.”

Alsendur shrugged. “I’m trying to set one of them to music.”

A small smile stretched across Geth’s face as he scanned over a few lines of the poetry. Finally, he looked up and the smile brightened. “Of course you are. Read me one.”

“Oh… I–” The book came flying across the room, and Sen snatched it out of the air. “Okay.”

Geth fell back onto Alsendur’s bed, resting his hands under his head and closing his eyes. “Go on.”

Alsendur leafed through the pages until he found his favorite, and read. He stumbled a little over the Elvish, but Geth showed no sign of noticing the mistake. He lay there, one leg bent and one straight, eyes closed, totally still aside from a near-imperceptible shift of his hips that made Alsendur forget what line he’d even been reading. Such was the curse of an attractive friend in your bed and uncontrollable hormones, but it was hardly a new struggle, so Sen redoubled his focus on the poetry, reading each line with care.

The final line of the poem rolled off Sen’s tongue, and silence fell over the room–but not a dead silence, but the quiet following a song, when the overtones still reverberated out. A breeze blew in from the East, whistling through the harp strings, rustling the pages of the book, and dancing in Geth’s hair. Geth’s chest rose and fell with a relaxed sigh, and a strange feeling, just short of discomfort, filled Alsendur’s chest and throat and radiated out to the fingers that held the book of poetry.

And it was then that the full truth of it hit Alsendur: this was far more than a hormonal torrent. He was completely, head-over-heels in love with his best friend.  
  


* * *

THE LYRE

29 Eleint 1488

_Dolce_

“So, where are we going?”

“Someplace you’ll love, trust me,” Geth said. He flashed a grin and ushered Alsendur along the street.

Alsendur squinted with curiosity, but if it was going to be a surprise, that was fine. Spending time with Geth–especially just the two of them, without one of their siblings or other friends–was a reward of its own, regardless of where in the city they went. 

He stuffed his hands in his pockets and followed Geth down the winding lane.

They walked for a while without talking, alternating his attention between the bustling traffic of the city and his friend, who was walking with the unusual purpose and focus of someone following a map in their head to get to a new location.

“Aha, here it is!” Geth said suddenly, pointing to a shop shingle hanging on the opposite side of the street. 

“Halambar’s?” Alsendur’s eyes lit up. The luthier was a household name, though Sen had never been in his shop, as he’d always regarded Halambar as The Competition–even if his specialty was lutes, not harps. Still, Sen would never turn down a chance to look at instruments. “What are we doing here?”

“I’m buying myself a lute,” Geth said. “To take lessons, like you suggested. That way I can play with you.”

“Like a band?” 

“Yeah. Like a band. You’ll need accompaniment, right? I’ll just… strum along on a lute and look handsome. We can get Adrienne a tambourine, so if she wanders off we’ve only lost our percussion accompaniment. And Vera can play the pipes.” He made his exaggerated piper-face, cheeks red, eyes crossed.

“I don’t think I need a whole band...”

“Fine, no band. But you spend _so_ much time harping away–”

“Playing the harp.”

“So much time _harping away_ ,” Geth repeated, “so this way you don’t have to do it alone.”

Alsendur smiled. He liked playing alone, and in fact, the _alone_ part was half the joy of it, but the idea of Geth playing his own instrument, joining him instead of competing for attention… well, that was an attractive idea. 

“You _do_ know,” Sen said, just before they reached the door, “that we have plenty of harps and lyres if you want to start there. I know we have some lutes lying around the house, too.”

“No, no,” Geth said, waving his hand at Alsendur. “I should have my own. And you told me lute, so I’m learning lute. It’s what all the cool bards play.”

“Sorry, are _you_ becoming a bard now?”

Geth laughed as he opened the door. “Gods, no. I’m going to marry well and spend my days doing as little as possible.” 

“Can I help you fine young lords?” asked a middle-aged half-orc with a kind smile.

As Geth and Alsendur turned to face him, he let out a small gasp of recognition.

“Oh! You must be young Master Majarra! You look _exactly_ like your father. What brings _you_ here? If your family needs assistance–”

Alsendur held up a hand. “Not for me, thank you. My friend here, Geth Melshimber, is looking to buy a lute to learn to play. And we’ve heard there’s no better lute made in Waterdeep than a Halambar.”

“Oh, goodness, well, I must agree,” the luthier chuckled. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both. I’m Priktos Halambar, the seventh master of this shop, and it’s my honor to help you find your first lute, Master Melshimber. You know, my great-great-great-great-great grandfather, Kriios, worked with both of your families to found New Olamn College for the Bardic Arts!”

Geth arched an eyebrow. “Yes, I do know that. But he was a _human_ , wasn’t he?”

“Geth!” Alsendur hissed.

“What?” Geth asked. “He was!”

Halambar just laughed. “He was, he was,” he echoed, like it hadn’t been insulting at all. “As was my mother. My father, not so much. But never mind that. Come, let me show you some options.”

Priktos Halambar walked Geth around the shop, and Alsendur did his best to bite his tongue and let the expert give his advice on the type of lute best suited for Geth. And then Alsendur spotted it: a rich maple-wood lyre with ornate carving and an unmistakable silver trim.

“Is that a Majarra lyre?” he asked, gesturing to the item behind the counter.

The luthier caught himself in the middle of a sentence to Geth and blinked a few times. “Ah, yes, a collector’s item. I’m afraid it’s not for sale. It’s a very rare piece.”

“Can I see it, though?”

It didn’t occur to Alsendur that a sixteen-year-old asking to handle a very rare collector’s item might be an unreasonable demand, but the luthier’s expression indicated as much. He hesitated before answering and seemed to do the math on the surety provided by a noble’s fortune and the risk of offending House Majarra, the producers of some of the finest harps in the realms and a noble house with a propensity for patronage of musicians and artists.

“I suppose that would be appropriate, yes,” Halambar said at last, crossing the shop to fetch the lyre. “I assume you play?” 

“I just started learning a little from my Great-Aunt,” Alsendur said. “Mostly I play harp.”

“Of course.”

“He’s _very_ good,” Geth said, leaning on the counter and watching as the luthier gingerly placed the lyre in Alsendur’s hands.

Sen turned the lyre over, looking at its curves, its strings, its pins, its bridge. “This is a completely different style from any that I’ve seen at home,” he said.

“Yes, as I was saying,” Halambar said. “It’s very rare. An outdated style, I’m afraid, though it produces an unusually sweet tone–not jangly, like many lyres you might find with metal strings. Not, of course, any _Majarra_ instruments, but–”

“I know what you mean,” Alsendur said. “We don’t really make lyres anymore at all, actually. We still have several at home, from when we did, but none like this. There’re more strings than usual.”

The luthier nodded, as Alsendur plucked each string, listening as the tones rang out. “Don’t mind me,” he said, gesturing to Geth. “You pick out your lute.”

Geth sulked a little. “I thought you would help me.”

“Oh,” said Alsendur. He did want to help, but he didn’t want to put the lyre down. “Yeah, of course. Just a quick minute, then.”

Geth cocked his head and sighed, surely knowing that there was no such thing as a _quick minute_ when it came to Sen and music. “All right.”

Alsendur began to pluck the strings, drawing out the harmonics gently and letting the overtones resonate in the shop. He fell into focus on the instrument, almost forgetting the presence of Geth and the luthier. After a minute (or several, he had no idea), he tried to strum a few chords like his Great-Aunt Jhess had showed him–though of course, her instrument had a different number of strings. He stumbled a little bit and adjusted, and sorted out three or four chords, enough to practice a simple strumming pattern through a pleasant progression.

Realizing he was now monopolizing the visit, he looked up at Geth, who didn’t actually seem annoyed or impatient at all. Sen smiled warmly, strummed a final chord, and then muted the strings.

“Thank you,” he said, handing back the lyre. As the luthier reached out, though, Alsendur felt suddenly attached, and he hesitated a bit longer than he should’ve before placing it back in the shopkeeper’s hands. “It’s… I’d love to have a lyre like that.”

Priktos Halambar smiled cooly with his orcish teeth and placed it back on its shelf before returning to Geth.

“Let’s find you your lute,” Alsendur said, drunk on the confidence from having played. He picked up a six-course style and handed it to Geth. “The eight-course will be the most versatile if you don’t know what you want to do, but I think you’ll actually prefer the six-course, if not single-strings. The extra charge for the magic on the strings to resist humidity and temperature changes will be worth it, since you aren’t going to want all the extra fuss, but this way you still get the proper sound.”

Geth aimlessly strummed the lute, making a terrible sound, and Alsendur laughed.

“You’ll need lessons, regardless.” Alsendur reached out to touch Geth’s left wrist, and suddenly his head began to spin. “Relax your wrist.”

Geth loosened his handle as suggested and looked up. “Better?”

“Yeah, now… I don’t know much, but this should be an easy start,” he began, placing Geth’s fingers into a simple chord. His heart raced at the contact, which was stupid. They were friends, old friends. And yet. “It’s not all chords,” he continued, distracting himself, “but at least that will make a nicer sound.”

“Like this?” Geth tried again, and indeed, it rang out a consonant harmony this time.

Alsendur beamed. “Yes.”

“All right, I’ll get it.” Geth waved Halambar over and handed him the instrument. “I’ll take this.”

“Very well, sir. That’ll be seventy dragons. Most are fifty, but you’ll understand, the strings, like your friend explained–”

“Seventy's fine,” Geth said, opening a coin purse and dropping seven platinum pieces on the counter. He looked at Alsendur, who gave him an encouraging thumbs-up, and then looked back at the luthier. “And how much for the lyre?”

“I… I explained, young lord. It’s not for sale. It was a gift to Kriios Halambar himself.”

Geth rolled his eyes and leaned into the counter. " _Ev_ _erything_ is for sale, for the right price. Name it.”

The luthier opened his mouth, closed it, and furrowed his jutting brow before finally saying, “Three hundred.”

“Three hundred?” Alsendur repeated. “A regular lyre’s _thirty_.”

“It’s not a _regular_ lyre, is it?” Halambar argued, not hiding the insult in his voice. “I told you very clearly as much. As you should know–rare even for a Majarra to find. I _should_ ask five hundred, really, but… if it’s going back to a Majarra, I could take three hundred.”

Alsendur shook his head. He loved the lyre well enough, but not _three hundred dragons_ well enough.. “It’s all right, friend. I’m not in the market, and you–”

A loud _thump_ and quiet jangle of a velvet coin purse hitting wood stopped Alsendur short.

“Sen, it’s yours,” Geth said. He pushed the coin purse over to the luthier. “There’s five hundred.”

Priktos Halambar sputtered. “Are-are you–”

“Dead serious,” Geth said, though Alsendur half-suspected Halambar was going to say _insane_. “Is it a deal?”

“Geth,” Alsendur muttered, “this isn’t necessary.” Sure, Geth had easy access to gold, but five hundred gold pieces was still no small amount for a gift for a friend, even a best friend. That was nearly two months’ expenses for a noble–eight months for an artisan like Halambar.

Geth looked over and shook his head. “Let me do this, Sen. It belongs in your hands.”

Alsendur didn’t protest any further. The luthier took the bag of coins, started to open it and then thought better of insulting a noble in that manner, and then knelt down behind the counter, emerging with a case that he lovingly placed the lyre into.

“May it bring you success and joy,” he said to Alsendur, sliding the closed case onto the counter. “You have quite a friend here.”

Alsendur’s breath hitched as he took hold of the case. He couldn’t believe it–this instrument, suddenly his. “Thank you. I promise, no one could love it more.”

“You can be sure of that,” Geth agreed, affixing his new lute to a strap and draping it over his shoulder. “Though his harp may feel jilted. How do I look?”

He spun around, showing off the instrument. He was suited to it, really, and despite his protests, his bold crimson-and-permission outfit paired with the lute and his currently overgrown curls made him look… 

“Unquestionably like a bard,” Alsendur said. He thought back to Vera’s grandmother’s words and added, “The kind that’s going to steal your man.”

Geth laughed, and it was the clearest music that had filled the shop yet. “Excellent. Come on, let’s get home and learn how to play these things.”

They walked out of the store, Geth sporting his lute and Alsendur carrying the lyre in its case, treating it like a precious parcel–which it was, after all.

“You’re going to have to get over that,” Geth said, noting Alsendur’s care. “It’s going to go with you on wild adventures into dungeons and across the realms. Or at least into palaces and courts.”

Alsendur laughed. “I guess you’re right. But–Geth, that was crazy. I can get the gold, once we’re home, and–”

Geth stopped short and squeezed Alsendur’s shoulder. “Sen. Don’t you _dare_. This was a gift. I’ve never seen you fall in love with something so quickly. It makes you happy. You deserve it.”

“But five _hundred–_ ”

“Is way more than it’s worth, but Halambar was getting testy. Excuse me for not wanting us to be ripped to pieces in a savage rage.”

Alsendur scoffed. “He was _not_ going to rip us apart.”

“You don’t know that,” Geth argued. “Anyway, it’s just gold. I won’t miss it, and I know you could ask your parents and they wouldn’t miss it either. But it was a _gift_ , and I’ll be damn well insulted if you try to pay me back for it.”

Alsendur nodded. “Got it. Thank you, Geth. I do love it.”

Geth dropped his shoulder and brightened into a grin. “I know.”

“I just wish I could return the favor somehow.”

“It’s okay. It’s your passion. I don’t have something like that.” Geth shrugged and started to walk again. After a second he added, “Listen, if you want to do something, write me a song on it.”

“Yeah? That doesn’t seem like an equal trade.”

“If it’s a good song, it will be,” Geth said, with an air of finality.

“All right, then. It’s a deal.”


	4. Marpenoth 1488

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On Liar's Night, you can say whatever you wanted and do whatever you wanted, with no repercussions. Alsendur hates it.

LIAR’S NIGHT

30 Marpenoth 1488

_ Precipitando _

Sen held the long match in until the candlewick caught light, and then handed the enchanted match to Geth. 

“I hate this holiday,” he said, watching Geth light his own candle.

Geth laughed and passed the match to Adrienne. “That’s a good one! I totally hate this holiday too!”

Alsendur rolled his eyes behind his mask. “I  _ meant _ it, though.”

Adrienne groaned and covered her own now-lit candle, passing the match to Vera, whose gourd was the only dark one remaining. “Come on, Sen, it’s  _ fun _ ,” Adrienne said. “You can say and do whatever you want! Even if it’s true, you can then  _ say _ it wasn’t, which is pretty perfect, if you think about it. Surely there’s  _ something _ you’d want to say without any consequences.”

He hadn’t thought of it that way, but Sen  _ could _ think of one thing. His eyes fell back on Geth–on the curls that fell artfully around his mirrored half-mask, on his lips that drew into a mischievous smile, on–

“Exactly,” Adrienne muttered, just loud enough for Sen to hear.

He blushed behind the mask.

“I hate Sen Majarra,” Geth said suddenly. “See? Just say something ridiculous.”

Sen’s nose wrinkled, but that was the point. That was the game. “I hate music,” he offered.

“I love having my little brother tag along when I’m with my friends,” Vera said, eyeing Dorian Amcathra, who returned her comment with a rude hand gesture.

Dorian crossed his arms. “I think Vera is smart enough to realize she can go somewhere else.”

Gav, the youngest of them, cleared his throat and offered, “I love Chondathan lessons and think they are  _ totally _ a great use of my time.” An olive branch.

“Ugh, Chondathan!” Geth groaned. “I don’t even use that when we go to Tethyr. Everyone speaks Common everywhere, anyway.”

“You should just learn Elvish like us,” Sen said, nodding to Adrienne. She’d demanded to, years ago, and Alsendur had joined her in it–partly to give her someone to talk to, partly to have a language they could use without Vee or Gav understanding, partly to read all the High Elf poets in the original texts.

“Let’s play a game,” Adrienne said.

Geth broke into a grin. “Liar’s Lark! Everyone put your hand in.”

Adrienne’s hand shot out, following by Vera’s, and then Sen’s. They all looked back at Gav and Dorian, who were whispering furtively to each other.

“Gav’s gotta show me something,” Dorian said, jumping to his feet. “You guys have fun.”

“Show you  _ what _ ?” Vera asked, at the same time Adrienne said, “If you’re going to go make out, just say so.”

Geth snorted in amusement, but Dorian and Gav didn’t see the humor.

“As  if ,” Dorian scoffed.

“It’s a letter from my  _ girlfriend _ , actually,” Gav boasted.

“Bullshit,” said Sen.

Adrienne laughed. “Course it’s bullshit! It’s Liar’s Night. Dorian’s his girlfriend, clearly.”

“Am  _ not _ !” Dorian protested, while Gav wrinkled his nose and explained, “Dorian doesn’t  like guys, and the letter is  totally  real.”

“Who, then?” Geth asked, crossing his arms. “I haven’t heard about any girlfriend.”

“Why would  _ you _ know?” Gav asked.

Geth huffed. “I know everything worth knowing.”

“Maseene Thunderstaff,” Gav said, putting his hands on his hips. “Now you know.”

Vera’s ears perked up. “Oh, she’s a sweet girl. Best friends with Sivi Cragsmere! They're both great.”

“That’s not how you play the game,” Adrienne scolded. “You’re supposed to hide the true answer along with two lies.”

“He did,” Sen said, looking his brother over. “He’s seeing someone, but it’s  _ not _ Maseene, and there’s no letter.”

“Who is it, then?” Gav challenged.

Sen smirked. “Dorian.”

“Ugh!” Gav spun on his heel and stormed inside, with Dorian slamming the door behind them.

“Are they really–” Vera started.

“No,” Sen laughed. He leaned against the garden wall. “It’s Miri Ilzimmer.”

Adrienne looked over at him. “How’d you know?”

“He exaggerates his gestures when you’re lying,” he said with a shrug. “Plus, I saw him with her at the Day of Wonders.”

“You didn’t tell  _ me _ ,” Geth said, almost indignant.

Alsendur shrugged again. “There wasn’t anything to tell. I didn’t even remember it until now.”

Vera scrunched her nose. “Her sister Zori is  terrible ,” she said. “She hates me for no reason.”

“She’s jealous,” Adrienne said.

“And her family worships Talona,” Vera added. “Which… goddess of  _ poison _ ? Ew.”

“Not everyone is the same as their parents,” Geth gently noted, before grinning and adding, “ _ My _ parents worship the All-Knowing Oghma, but I’m still a dumbass.”

Vera laughed loudly, ringing out in the courtyard.

“And Miri’s not bad. Just dull.”

“Perfect for Gav, then,” Sen said. “Say, how’s a fire sound?”

“Delightful,” said Vera.

“Oh, I’ll get someone to light one,” Adrienne said, jumping into action.

Sen ushered Vera and Geth over to the fire pit, which was in the center of two sets of semi-circular benches that formed concentric rings around the fire. It was usually used for performances or improvisational sessions held among the best musicians of Waterdeep, but it was quiet tonight.

They climbed over the benches and sat, Geth and Sen on the inner bench, facing outward, and Vera on the outer bench, facing the fire pit.

Sen pulled out his lyre and began to pluck a riff, something calm and meditative.

“I brought wine,” Geth said, patting his jacket pocket. “I didn’t want to get the little ones drunk, even on Liar’s Night, but now that Gav and Dorian have run off...”

“So  responsible ,” Vera mocked.

“Listen, my parents have taught me two things: one, no information is useless information, and two, no occasion can’t be made better with wine.”

“You’re going to end up a sad old lush one day,” Vera said haughtily. “I’ve met people like that. My parents are nice to them, because they buy our wine, but it’s  _ sad _ .”

Geth snorted. “Then don’t have any.”

“I didn’t say  _ that _ ,” Vera backtracked. “What kind?”

“A  _ zzar _ ,” he said, sneaking a smile. “A Melshimber  _ zzar _ .”

“What? How?” she asked. “Isn’t that a guild secret?”

Geth’s sly smile grew wider. “House Amcathra may deal in wine and horses; House Melshimber deals in wine and  _ secrets _ . You really think it’s so tightly kept that we couldn’t figure it out?”

“No, but you can’t  sell  it, or they’ll call for your heads.”

“I know,” Geth said, rolling his eyes. “Stupid puffed-up commoners.”

Alsendur glanced up from his lyre to ask, “Why make it, then?”

“To see if we could? Why not?” Geth shrugged. “Maybe we’ll make it better, and they’ll have to actually  _ compete _ . But this is just a trial run. Not as good as guild  _ zzar _ . So… it’s all ours. Cheers!” He pulled a wineskin from his jacket, drank from it, and passed it to Vera, who sipped it in turn.

She scrunched her nose. “You’re right. It’s  not as good,” she said, but she nudged Sen and said, “Want to try?”

Sen paused his music, took a sip, and handed it back to Geth. He wouldn’t have noticed it was much different from regular  _ zzar _ if he hadn’t been told, but Geth and Vera had both grown up in families where wine was as much their trade as harps or silver were to the Majarras.

As he went back to his lyre, Adrienne returned with a servant, who set to lighting the fire.

“Oh, Sen, play us something,” she said, taking a seat next to Vera.

Sen hesitated. “I don’t know a lot of pieces for lyre yet,” he said, in a half-truth. “I’ve only had it a few weeks.”

“And I don’t know a lot of your most embarrassing secrets,” Geth jibed, turning so that he sat cross-legged on the bench to face Alsendur. “Stop acting humble and play something.”

Sen rolled his eyes and began to strum chords in the old Illuskan technique. The progression bore out a soulful, longing melody, but with an urgent rhythm that gave it life and a bittersweet joy. After a minute, he sang the words, old verses about a secret love held by the poet for his comrade-in-arms. As he finished, Vera applauded politely.

“I love it,” said Vera.

“I thought it was  _ terrible _ ,” Adrienne said, grinning. Liar’s Night.

The light from the fire danced in Geth’s eyes as he stared, in uncharacteristic silence, at the lyre with a far-off look of someone lost in thought. He looked from the lyre up to catch Sen’s eye, and Sen looked down, turning the lyre over in his hands.

“Did you write that?” Vera asked.

Sen shook his head. “I heard a bard sing it at the Misty Lion last week.”

“And taught yourself?”

“It’s just a few chords. I had to go back to ask him to play it again so I could get all the lyrics, but…” He shrugged and resumed the chords, arpeggiating them now and then improvising a quiet tune on the pentatonic strings.

“So,” Adrienne said, swinging one leg back and forth with impatience, “Liar’s Lark, or no?”

“Yes,” Geth said, putting his hand back in the middle of the group. The others followed suit, and Geth tapped their hands in a circle as he muttered an old schoolyard chant. “Vera first,” he declared.

“Ask away.”

Adrienne pointed at her. “Why haven’t you made a move on Osvaldo yet?”

Vera laughed breathily. “I’ve already talked to him, and he’s not interested right now. I think it’s best to wait for my debut, anyway.”

Geth pushed the wineskin into Vera’s hands.

“You haven’t even guessed!”

“You're waiting, obviously," he said. "You haven’t talked to him. And there’s no way he’s not interested.”

“Yeah,” Adrienne agreed. “He asks about you whenever we see him.”

Sen nodded along.

Vera sighed loudly, rolled her eyes, and drank.

“You’re really going to wait to even  _ talk _ to him?” Alsendur asked.

Vera looked away, shrugged, and took another drink of the  _ zzar _ .

“What if it’s true love?” Alsendur pressed. “What if you’re  meant to be together, but he ends up engaged to someone else because you never approached him?”

“Sen’s right,” Adrienne noted. “He’s nearing the end of his Season. You have to make some kind of move. What if he ends up being courted by Zori Ilzimmer? Because she’s being Presented in the spring, and  _ she _ won’t wait to jump on that.”

Vera shrugged. “If I still like him after we come back from winter, I’ll talk to him before the Presentation Ball.”

“Wouldn’t it be more romantic,” Sen suggested, “if you approached him  _ now _ , and then you had all winter to write letters, building up the anticipation for the spring, and then by the time he comes back to Waterdeep, he’ll be completely smitten with you and everyone he sees will pale in comparison, so he’ll wait for you, and then when  _ you _ finally make your debut, there’ll be a huge proposal. You know that’ll be the talk of our whole Season–”

“Yeah, and then no one will give a shit about either of  _ us _ ,” Geth said, kicking Alsendur’s foot.

“Or they’ll give  more of a shit, because Vera will be spoken for!” Sen argued.

“Okay, Geth’s turn,” Vera said, deflecting any further attention from herself. She crossed her legs and leaned in. “Since we were already talking about Osvaldo… what’s Tasheene’s problem with him, anyway?”

Geth’s smile vanished. “No. You can ask about me. Or anyone else. Not my sister.”

“But–”

“Family’s off limits.”

Vera pouted. “That’s not in the rules.”

“Those are my rules, and you know it. Try again.”

“Fine,” she sighed. “If you had to marry someone who was  already of age, who would you choose? No one over thirty, though. It’s cheating if they’re too old and you’re just waiting for them to die.”

Geth laughed. “Okay, okay. Um… Momvad Rosznar…”

“Ew!” she said. “Like, at least Esvele  _ tries _ . But I heard Momvad collects poisons like a complete weirdo. And I heard him defending his family’s slaving history. That's not something you defend.”

“Lander Gauntyl…”

“Shut the fuck up,” Alsendur said. “You’d never.”

“... or Pallasio Assumbar.”

Adrienne snorted. “Isn’t he _basically_ thirty ?”

“He's twenty-four, I think. But he’s as interesting as a brick,” Vera added. “ Okay, I’m stumped. Sen? You’re better at this than me. Which one’s true?”

Sen looked at Geth with a heavy dose of skepticism. “They all seem like bullshit to me.”

Vera threw her arms in the air. “Lander, then?”

Geth looked at the two Majarras. “You agree with her guess?”

Adrienne shrugged. Alsendur squinted and said, “There’s some kind of trick. Like, it’s Momvad but you’d have him accidentally drink his own poison. Or it’s Lander and you sabotage the Gauntyl line, because you’d  _ never _ join our biggest enemies like that. Or it’s Pallasio and you think you could send him off to watch over the vineyards and then do whatever you wanted in Waterdeep.”

“Ah-ah-ah,” Geth said, waving a finger. “You only get one guess.”

Vera looked between Adrienne and Sen and bit her lip. “Sen makes a good case for Pallasio. He’s totally the kind of bore who would love running a vineyard and ignore his husband getting busy on the side.”

“Is that your final answer?”

“Sure,” Sen said, as Adrienne said, “I guess _. _ ”

Geth cackled. “Drink, all of you." As they did, he shook his head and said, " I'm disappointed in you, Sen . There’s no way in a million years I’d marry Pallasio Assumbar, even if I  _ could _ ship him off to the Heartlands.”

“Lander or Momvad, then?” Adrienne asked.

“You’ll never know,” Geth said, grinning. “Sen’s turn now.”

“Oh, hoo-ray,” Sen said.

Geth turned to face Alsendur. “Who," he asked, "is your song about?”

Adrienne looked between them with keen interest, as Vera asked, “What song?”

“The one he  just sang, about falling for a friend,” Geth explained, though he didn’t take his eyes off Sen.

Vera huffed. “Sen said it was some bard’s song, not  _ his _ .”

“Sure. But he doesn’t sing that well when it’s not personal,” Geth stated. He wasn’t wrong. “Which means it’s true, from his point of view.”

“You’re saying  _ he’s _ in love with one of his friends? Like, one of  us ?”

“I’m not in love with  _ anyone _ ,” Sen argued. “It was just a song. I didn’t write it.”

“Liar,” Geth said, crossing his arms. “Tell us who it’s about.”

Sen swallowed nervously and looked at the ground. He was a terrible liar. 

“Come on, three names. That’s the game.”

“Fine. Vera Amcathra. Geth Melshimber. Trinian Nesher.”

“Gods above, you have a thing for  _ Geth _ ,” Vera said, without missing a beat. 

Adrienne nodded. “Definitely Geth. You suck at lying, Sen.”

They all looked at Geth, who just grinned and handed him the wine. “Drink.”

Alsendur reached forward, took the skin of fortified wine, and drank. He didn't dare look at Geth, so he angled himself toward Adrienne and said, "Your turn, Drie. What did you–"

Alsendur’s question turned into a yelp as a giant spider climbed onto his hand from the bench.

He flung it off his hand and onto the ground, cursing under his breath. 

“Eurgh,  _ kill it _ ,” Geth shrieked.

He waved it off, saying, “It’s fine, I was just startled,” when Vera jumped off the bench and did a furious dance that knocked her silver mask off her face.

“They’re  _ everywhere! _ ” she shouted.

“Give me your lyre, Sen,” Adrienne said.

Alsendur held it far out of her reach while stomping on one of the things. Its legs and skeleton crunched under his boot . “You are  _ not _ using this to kill spiders,” he chided.

“Then play them a song and Pied-Piper them away!”

“I can’t  do that!”

“Isn’t that a bard power?”

“No! No, it’s not! And I’m–” He swatted three more away and stomped another underfoot. “Not a bard yet!”

“Wait, hold on,” Adrienne said. “Give me your cloak.”

“No way.”

“ _ Fine! _ I’ll use mine, even though it’s  _ brand new! _ ” she whined, taking her own cloak off and throwing it onto the ground where the spiders were swarming, and then hissed, “ Sen! ”

The tone didn’t mean much of anything to anyone else, but Alsendur recognized it as meaning,  _ Help me with this thing right now. _ So he did, swallowing back the bile that crept up at the sight of the writhing cloak. They swept the horde of spiders into the cloak and closed it around the top, although one of the invaders managed to sneak out first.

Adrienne didn’t need to speak for him to know her next move, as much as he hated it. The cloak and all the spiders were now meeting a fiery death.

Alsendur squinted, looking at the cloak and the fire. He snatched the cloak out, threw it on the ground, and stamped the fire out. It was too late, though. Picking up the cloak revealed several burn marks.

“Great-Aunt Jhess might be able to fix it for you,” he said, handing it back to Adrienne.

“But the spiders–”

Sen rolled his eyes. “An illusion of some kind.”

“Ugh, Dorian’s doing, I’m sure,” Vera scoffed. “Those little  imps .”

“How do your brothers want to follow _every_ _rule_ until it’s sending magic spiders to torment us?” Geth whined.

“I don’t know, but they owe me a cloak,” Adrienne said, walking over to add a log to the dampened fire. “We need to get them back.”

“How?” Sen asked.

Adrienne smiled. “Maybe he  _ does _ need to receive a letter from Miri. I have a calligraphy set inside.”

“Brilliant,” said Vera, stepping toward the house. “You boys coming?”

“You two go on,” Geth said. “I want a word with Sen.”

Vera raised her eyebrows, but  Adrienne tugged on Vera’s arm, saying, “We can take a hint. Come on, they’ll join us when they’re ready.”

The girls slipped off into the darkness, and Alsendur was alone with Geth. So much for hiding the truth in a lie.

“It’s not a big deal,” Sen said, getting up to add two logs to the dwindling fire in an effort to stave off any well-intentioned servants interrupting. “I just liked the song. I only said your name, because if I  _ had _ to choose a friend...”

Geth smirked. “Adrienne’s right. You’re a terrible liar.”

Sen looked down at his lyre, running his fingers over the polished frame.

“Look at me.”

Alsendur did.

“This is how you lie,” Geth said, clearing his throat. Behind his mask, his cornflower eyes became cold and distant, his face and posture firm as stone, his breath even and steady. “Alsendur Majarra, I’ve never felt a  _ thing _ for you other than friendship.”

Even knowing full well it was a game, Sen flinched from the sting.

And then he replayed the words. “Wait. You–?”

“Shh,” Geth said. “Now you try. Lie to me. Properly this time.”

Alsendur looked back down at the lyre and then met Geth’s eyes, trying to ignore the reflection of his nervous self in the mirrored mask. “It was just a song. It didn’t mean anything."

Sen watched Geth closely for any reaction, but his face was as inscrutable as his mask. After a second, though, Geth dropped his feet to the ground on either side of the bench and pushed himself closer to Alsendur.

“Kiss me,” he said.

Alsendur closed his hand around the lyre. “I don’t want to ruin anything. You’re my best friend.”

Geth shrugged. “It’s Liar’s Night. It doesn’t have to count. Worst case scenario, we never speak of it again.”

Alsendur’s eyes fell to Geth’s lips. He said, “Okay,” but he didn’t move. This wasn’t how he imagined it, forced and unnatural, a step away from Liar’s Lark dare.

But then Geth’s hand was on his neck, and their lips were touching, and nothing felt forced or unnatural, just electric and overwhelming. 

And then it was over, as quickly as it had started. Sen held his eyes shut for an extra second, afraid that it would all be gone and the memory would vanish as soon as he opened them.

Geth had pulled only a few inches away, though, and whatever skill he’d mustered to appear stoic and statuesque before was cast well aside. His eyes scanned Alsendur up and down, his mouth was stuck in a pleased half-smile, and his chest rose and fell with eager breaths.

“Is that it?” Alsendur asked.

Geth broke into a giddy smile and shook his head. “It doesn’t have to be,” he laughed. He threw himself against Sen, and this time the kiss wasn’t short at all.

“You taste sweet,” Geth observed, in a matter-of-fact tone.

“Like  _ zzar _ , probably.”

“No, that’s nutty and fiery. You taste like vanilla. Buttery. Oaky.”

“I’m not a  wine ,” Sen said. “Vera’s right, you  _ are _ going to end up a sad old lush.”

“I’ll take  this over wine. Just as intoxicating.”

Sen laughed. “Very smooth.”

“Ah, smooth! Maybe that too. And a hint of nutmeg? Come here, refresh my memory.”

Alsendur leaned in, but suddenly pulled away, caught by how strange this all was.

“This isn’t a mistake, is it?” he asked.

Geth shook his head. “There are no mistakes on Liar’s Night. That’s the point.”

“But–”

“Stop talking, Sen,” Geth begged. “Just… shut up.”

Alsendur obliged, and neither said anything else until some time later, when Gav’s voice rang out, growing nearer and shouting, “Your prank was stupid and I’ll have you know I didn’t believe it for a–”

Gav fell silent, and Sen’s attention snapped back to their surroundings. He held Geth still, a hand on either arm, and looked behind them to see Algavain and Dorian.

“Fucking  _ Adrienne _ and her  _ pranks _ ,” Geth swore.

“Sorry, are you two  together ?” Dorian asked, cocking his head. “Since  when ?”

“We didn’t have anything to do with the prank,” Alsendur said.

“Yeah, scram,” Geth agreed, reaching to the ground to grab a loose pebble to toss at Algavain.

“Oh my  gods! ” Gav yelped. “Did you just  throw a  rock at me? I’m not a  _ dog _ .”

Geth shrugged.

“Where’d they go, then?” Dorian asked. “Vera’n Adrienne?”

“Fuck if we know,” Geth answered.

“Probably to her room,” Sen answered. “Feel free to take your prank war there.”

“We’re not  pranking ,” Gav said. “The help made pies for us all, and we were coming to get everyone.”

“Ygettra or Pleisel?” Alsendur asked. The two cooks had wildly different levels of talent.

“Ygettra,” Gav answered.

Sen turned to Geth. “We should probably join them.”

“Oh.” Geth sighed. “Yeah, sure. Pie. Great.”

“Go on,” Sen said to Gav. “We’ll be there in a minute.”

“Sure, sure. Don’t let us stop you,” Gav said, waving his hand in an over-the-top gesture. “We’ll be in the parlor.”

He and Dorian turned, and Dorian’s voice faded away as he asked, “Did  _ you _ know they were together?”

As soon as the younger boys had reached the garden wall, Geth’s hands wrapped back around Alsendur.

“What are we telling them?” Sen asked.

“About what?”

“If we’re together.”

Geth shrugged. “We don’t need to tell them  _ anything _ . It’s–”

“Liar’s Night, right,” Sen finished, sighing. It had seemed clear, for a moment, that they were on the same page, that Geth was just as interested, but now he wasn’t so sure.

“Unless you  _ want _ to tell them something?” Geth asked.

Alsendur’s eyes drifted to the fire, which was nothing but embers. “Seems like bad luck to start something on Liar’s Night.”

“So…”

“So tonight doesn’t count,” Sen decided, looking back over to Geth.

He nodded, slowly. “Got it. This is nothing.”

“Yeah, this is nothing,” Sen said, hating every second of the necessary lie.

“So..." Geth said, "If it’s  _ nothing _ , no reason to  stop , right?”

Alsendur looked back at the house. “Adrienne and Vera…”

“Are fine without us,” Geth answered. “For like, ten more minutes. Then we’ll go be social and eat pie and pretend like none of this ever happened.”

Sen didn’t need more convincing.

Well over ten minutes later, a warm, wet, heavy something hit Alsendur in the back of the head. He jumped away from Geth and yelped.

“What the  _ fuck _ !” he shouted, reaching to feel for whatever it was. Something crumbled under his fingers. Pie. He brought his fingers to his tongue to confirm. Apple.

“You  left us having  pie with Gav and Dorian!” Adrienne scolded, throwing another piece.

“Hey!” Sen shouted, swatting away the projectile pie this time. “Knock it off!”

“Apologize.”

“We’re  _ sorry _ !”

Adrienne looked at Vera, who shook her head.

Another piece threw through the air, hitting Geth in the shoulder this time.

“Okay,  _ now _ you’ll be sorry,” Geth said, scooping up the pie remains and flinging them back at Adrienne.

And just like that, the moment was over. Just a Liar's Night lark, never to be spoken of again.


	5. Uktar 1488

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alsendur and Geth reckon with the truth and lies of Liar's Night, with their families and with one another.

SOMETHING TRUE

1 Uktar 1488

_Risoluto_

The next day, after Sen and Adrienne and Gav saw off their friends, they sat down to lunch with their mother and older sister Arveene.As usual, Adrienne and Algavain competed for air time and their mother’s attention while Arveene looked on with patience and Sen lost himself in his thoughts, until Gav announced widely, “So, Sen and Geth are dating.”

Alsendur shook himself into the present.Where had that come from?He shot a furious expression at Gav as their mother’s eyes widened.

“Is that so?” she asked.“I’ve always thought you two would be perfect together, but you probably shouldn’t share a room for sleepovers if you’re _dating_.People will talk.”

People like Algavain Majarra.

“We’re not _dating_ ,” Alsendur said. “We’re just friends.”

“Oh.I see.”

“You _should_ date him,” Gav argued. “He’s a Melshimber.”

“I’m not going to date my friend because of his House,” Sen hissed.

Gav shrugged. “Just saying, you could do a lot worse for marriage prospects.”

“Sen is _years_ away from thinking about that,” Arveene snapped, a little too touchily.She, like Geth’s sister Tasheene, was in the middle of her second Season, and after a rough debut, she’d become protective over any efforts to push anyone into marriage too quickly.

“Arveene’s right,” his mother agreed. “But whatever would make your brother say you’re dating if you aren’t, Alsendur?”

“Yeah, _Alsendur_ ,” Gav echoed. “What _would_ make me say that?”

“I don’t know, being a nosy know-it-all who doesn’t know how to shut up?”

Arveene cleared her throat. “Don’t be a dick, Sen.”

“No need to be crass, Arveene,” their mother chided. “You’re a titled lady now. You should mind that.”

Arveene shrugged.

“Sen’s not being a dick,” Adrienne defended, taking her own seat again and gathering a too-large bite on her fork. “He’s telling the _truth_. Gav’s a nosy tattler.”

“Children!” Noreeve snapped. “That’s enough!”

Sen rolled his eyes and stabbed at his food. “Gav started it.”

“No, Alsendur, _you_ did, by not answering my question.”

_What would make your brother say such a thing?_

Alsendur bit his lip. Since waking up, he hadn’t stopped thinking about last night, about how hungrily Geth had held him, how long they’d spent outside by the fire, how blissful it had felt whenever Geth had snuck a soft smile in his direction the rest of the night, how awkward it had been changing and trying to sleep at the end of the night like nothing was different. Hooking up with Geth hadn’t made his feelings go away.It wasn’t some passing thing.But they’d also said it was nothing, that it didn’t count, and now he didn’t know what to think.

“I gotta go,” he said, standing up.

“Where?” Adrienne asked.

“Geth.” He shoveled the last of his food into his mouth and tossed the silver fork back onto the table.

“Alsendur _Majarra_ ,” his mother snapped, “Where are your manners?”

“Sorry!” he shouted, already running for the stairs and up to his room. He dunked his hands in a basin of rose water, splashed it on his face, and then toweled it dry. Throwing open his wardrobe, he drew out three different shirts and four jackets and threw them onto a dressing screen before choosing a cream shirt and blue jacket that he thought complemented his eyes very nicely and snagging his best-fitting newest trousers. After a pouf of powder to soak up any oil, he changed into the new ensemble and twisted his hair back with a silk scarf.

Most importantly, he picked up his lyre, slung the strap over his shoulder, and grabbed his tuner before opening the door back to the hall.

Adrienne was standing there, arms crossed.

“Tell me everything,” she said, pushing into the room and closing his door behind her.

Alsendur shook his head. “There’s nothing to tell.”

“You don’t get to start lying _now_!”

“I’m not! We made out. That’s it. What do you want, the play-by-play?”

“Ew, no thank you. Spare me the graphic details.”

“There was nothing _graphic_ ,” Sen said, appalled. “I mean.We sort of… hooked up again after everyone went to bed.”

Adrienne laughed.“Yeah, no shit.”

“Only because neither of us could sleep, and it was either than both lying there being _uncomfortable_ , and–”

“La, la, la!” Adrienne said, covering her ears.“Don’t need the details!”

Sen swatted her hands, and she stopped her sing-song protests.

“Just a surface-level review, please and thank you,” she said, taking a seat on the bed.She jumped up suddenly, saying, “Wait, nothing happened _here_ , right?”

Alsendur scrunched his nose and shook his head.“No.You’re safe.”

She relaxed back and waved for him to continue.

“Surface level review: he’s good at kissing,” he said, standing impatiently by the door.“Better than me.”

“He _does_ have more experience,” Adrienne noted. “Are you _sure_ he’s a good kisser? Vera said he was terrible.”

“He and Vera made out when they were like _twelve_ , and I’m pretty sure Geth’s interest in girls is about as non-existent as your self-control.”

“Ha!” Adrienne laughed. “So? What’s the deal? You were acting like nothing happened last night. But now you're beaming like a fucking idiot and you're running off to see him.”

Alsendur shrugged and starting tuning his lyre. “We said it was just a one-night thing. And we didn't want to make it weird.”

“So it… _wasn’t_ good? Or he’s not interested? He _seemed_ interested.” Adrienne’s eyes went wide. “Oh _no_ , did you do something weird and scare him away? Tell me you didn’t do anything weird.”

“I didn’t do anything _weird_!” Sen protested. “We just didn’t want to figure all of that out last night. That’s why I’m going over now.”

“You aren’t going to _date_ him, are you?He’s your best friend. He's _my_ friend. If anything goes wrong…”

“I know.” Alsendur bit his lip and let his head fall back against the door. “That’s why I hadn’t done anything this whole summer. But what if we’re like… soulmates or something and never give it a chance just because we were friends first? I can’t live like that.”

“You really think you’re soulmates?” Adrienne asked, scrunching her nose. “I mean, Geth is fine and all, but…”

“I don’t know! I don’t know my destiny.”

“Seems like if someone is your _destiny_ , you wouldn’t be able to avoid it.”

“Exactly,” Sen said, ignoring Adrienne’s puzzled expression.

“I wasn’t agreeing with you, Sen.”

Alsendur shrugged. “I’ve tried ignoring my feelings for Geth. Now I’m trying _not_ ignoring him.”

“Okay, but... I like our friend group.If you mess everything up because you couldn’t keep it in your pants–”

“I won’t,” he promised.“But I love him.I can’t keep hiding that.”

Adrienne groaned.“Well, I’m not going to stand in the way of _love_.I guess if it’ll stop you two from sneaking completely un-sneaky longing looks at each other, we all win, so… good luck.”

“Thanks.”He grinned and opened the door again, heading downstairs as he ironed out the harmonies of the song he’d been working on.

At the foot of the stairs, he ran into his mother, whose black hair was artfully arranged in a way that made her light skin look even paler, a marked contrast to the rest of the family.Her eyebrow arched in a question. “You’re going to Melshimber Villa?”

“Mm,” he half-answered, trying out a new chord.

“I called for the carriage to take you.” She touched his chin, drawing his attention away from the instrument. “You wouldn’t want to show up disheveled and sweaty, would you?”

Sen swung the lyre around to his back and leaned up to kiss his mother’s cheek. “Thanks.”

He flashed a smile and hurried to the door, where the carriage was waiting as promised. On the ride over, he fine-tuned the strings and practiced a few bars of a song that had been needling in his mind all morning.

It was only a few minutes before the carriage came to an abrupt stop, and the door opened to reveal Melshimber Villa, with the Street of Whispers stretching out beyond. The mansion of gleaming white stone was almost a second home as far as Sen was concerned, and he had no hesitation stepping up to the doors and greeting the servants as he arrived.

In the entryway, while waiting, he checked himself once more in a shining mirror, but Geth had already appeared on the grand stair, still in the same red pants and black shirt he’d been wearing the night before, but with slippers and a dressing gown on top of it.

“Sen! Come in, come on up!” he shouted, hurrying down as Sen hurried up.

As they met, Geth linked his arm and guided him up the stairs. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

“Sorry,” Sen said. “I just wanted to talk about–”

“Last night? Yeah, I figured.We’ll talk in my rooms.” 

They reached the second floor and started down the passage that led to Geth’s rooms– _plural_ , as the wealth of the family paired with the small numbers in the direct line of inheritance meant that Geth had his own bedroom, yes, but also his own sitting room, study, and bathroom. Even to Sen, who hadn’t exactly had a humble upbringing, it seemed excessive.

“Listen,” Geth said, as he walked them into his sitting room, “before we say anything else, I just want to say that we’re friends, and no matter what, that doesn’t change. Agreed?” To most people, he might have seemed calm and collected, but the slight edge in his voice did not escape Alsendur’s notice–not that he could tell exactly what it indicated.

“Agreed,” Alsendur said.

Geth’s posture relaxed a little, and he shut the door behind them.

“So,” he said.

“I…” Alsendur bit his lip. “I don’t like how everything happened.”

Geth’s shoulders and expression stiffened again. “Right. Yeah.”

“I don’t mean–I do like _what_ happened,” Sen tried. He pulled his lyre out. “Can I just.. .sing you something?”

Geth nodded.

“It’s kind of rough, but… when you got me the lyre, you asked me to write a song for you. So I’d been working on something.”

“Something you wrote?”

“It’s not very good,” Alsendur admitted, backing up, like that would keep him safe from rejection or insult. “It needs a lot of work, still, and I’m getting the hang of the instrument, but then last night happened, and it felt like I needed to finish it, so I could share it with you.”

“Sen. Just sing it. Or don’t.”

Sen nodded and placed his fingers along the open strings, and struck up a jaunty strumming pattern. He was hesitant to sing, because the instrument itself produced such an open, sweet tone that it felt almost like ruining it to add anything else. But he set that aside and softly sang:

> _Can I tell you a secret?  
>  Just between you and me?  
> I’m wild about a boy I know  
> And it's driving me crazy.  
> _
> 
> _Can I tell you a secret?  
>  Will you promise not to tell?  
> I would follow him anywhere  
> To any heaven or hell._
> 
> _Can I tell you a secret?  
>  Do you swear that you won’t share?  
> There’s no one else I’d rather be with,  
> Not anyone, anywhere. _
> 
> _But I’m tired of keeping secrets  
>  So tell anyone you will:  
> I’m love with you, Geth Melshimber,  
> And I’ll shout it from every hill._

His heart raced, even if he'd confessed it already the night before, and he put in every effort to keep his voice from breaking or quavering as he sang the fourth verse with gusto. And then he played through the chords again wordlessly, gathering his courage to come to the last verse and sing, more quietly again, like the song had started:

> _But can I ask you a question?  
>  Will you answer it honestly?  
> Do you feel the same thing that I feel?  
> Am I to you what you are to me? _

There wasn’t anything more of the song, but Sen was terrified to have it be over and face the answer to his question, so he repeated the last verse in an effort to hold off the inevitable. Finally, he fell silent, and the silence seemed to choke him.

“It’s terrible, I know,” he blurted out.“I’m sorry.It’s just a song.We can forget it. And if you don't feel the same way, we can forget everything, but I had to ask. Or I thought I did. Maybe we just forget it, and I can–”

“You _wrote_ that?” Geth asked.

Alsendur nodded.

“But you said last night didn’t mean anything. I thought–”

“No, I said don’t want _Liar’s Night_ to be the night we got together,” Alsendur said.

Geth furrowed his brow.“But you… _do_ want to be with me–like your song says?”

“Yeah,I just want to be with you for _real._ I want something true and honest, something that _means_ something.”

“Good,” Geth said. “So do I.”

“Wait, really?” Alsendur asked, half-afraid that he’d misspoken or Geth had misunderstood. “All of that? Not just… friends who make out sometimes?”

Geth laughed, pure and clear. “All of that,” he said, closing the distance between them until he was able to rest his arms on Sen’s shoulders. “True and honest and real and meaningful. And if I didn’t want _true_ and _real,_ I probably wouldn’t have ended up with this stupidly big crush on you, of all people. I don't think you can be anything but _true_ and _real_.”

Alsendur blinked in surprise. He’d assumed it was just him, that Geth had been going along with _his_ stupid crush. 

“You’ve had a crush on _me_?Since when?”

“Uh, I mean... I’ve always been _attracted_ to you, but–”

“Always? I didn’t know that!”

“I said so! Like… all the time, you idiot.”

Alsendur furrowed his brow in thought, trying to comb through his memories. Sure, he’d noticed every time Geth had commented on his appearance, but... 

“You say nice things about everyone.”

Geth dropped his arms, crossed them over his chest, and took a step back in order to look Alsendur over with a pitying expression. “If you can’t tell the difference between ‘ _That eyeliner makes your eyes pop,_ ’ and ‘ _Those pants make your ass look hotter than the Nine Hells_ ,’ I don’t know what to tell you. I assumed you knew.”

“Okay, when you say it like that...”

“Sen, you’re my best friend. I didn’t want to make things weird by saying skeezy things or putting you in the position of needing to reject me and then feeling bad.”

“Right, that makes sense.” Alsendur looked down at his shoes. Geth had a point, and he did appreciate it. Not everyone was so courteous as to look for clear signals before making the first move. But it still felt stupidly unfair that _he’d_ had to be the one to risk rejection. “So you waited until _I_ put myself out there?”

“No! It’s not like I would’ve made you explain that song last night if I hadn’t thought it was about me. And whatever, it wasn’t a big deal before, but then… things changed. When you were looking at that lyre in the shop last month... there was something about it: you intently figuring out songs on an instrument you’d never played before, and then looking up at me, and…” 

Alsendur waited.

“Before it was like, _Oh, my friend Sen has a nice ass_ , and then suddenly it was like this fight between, _Damn, I just want to jump his bones right now,_ and, _Wow, I’d do literally anything to make him happy_.”

Alsendur’s face flushed hot and he looked down, half-hiding the stupid grin on his face.

“That’s why I bought you the lyre,” Geth continued. “Not like I was expecting anything in return, just… to make you happy. But then you played that song last night, and I realized you felt the same way.”

Sen laughed with relief and breathed deeply. It was like a huge stone had been lifted off his chest, and then suddenly Geth was standing close to him again, tracing his fingers along the wood of the instrument.

“I’m not saying I’m _in love_ or anything. But I like you. A lot.” Geth’s fingers lingered in place as he looked up to meet Sen’s eyes. “And if you’re standing here asking me to go out with you? To try to make this into something real? Then yes, absolutely yes.”

Alsendur took Geth’s hand off the lyre and held it close as he swung the instrument behind his back. “Does that mean I can kiss you again?”

Geth grinned, and afternoon light flooded into the room, dancing in his golden curls. “Yes.Please do.”

Sen pulled Geth close, cupped his free hand around Geth’s neck, and kissed him.

And it was even better in the daylight.

* * *

SOMETHING REAL

1 Uktar 1488

_Risoluto_

“Geth, you’re _late_ ,” Tasheene said, throwing open his door. 

Geth lazily turned his head to see her better, but he didn’t move from the couch where he lay. Where he’d laid since Sen had left, hours ago. Moving would make time start again–he was sure of it–and the afterglow of the visit would fade and everything would go back to normal.

That would be dreadful.

“You shouldn’t just barge in like that,” he said. “I could’ve been doing something _private_.”

“Do I look like I care?” 

She did not. She just stood there, hands on her hips, like she was the _boss_. 

She would be, someday. 

Not today. 

“Why are you fetching me, anyway?" Geth asked. "Are you the help now?”

“No, I’m someone who didn’t want to sit around with Mother by myself. So get your ass up and come downstairs.”

Geth groaned and rolled out of his bed and then linked arms with his older sister. “Mother’s not that bad,” he whispered.

Tasheene answered with raised eyebrows.

As they made their way through the villa, Tasheene said, “I heard you’re dating Sen Majarra now.”

“Who told you?” 

There was nothing to Sen’s arrival that indicated as much, and Sen had left Geth alone in his room. Which meant that Tasheene had been snooping, or his parents had been snooping and then told Tasheene. Or the servants had been snooping and told Tasheene.

Someone was always snooping in Melshimber Villa, and it wasn't nearly as much fun when the _someone_ wasn't him.

She shrugged and smiled.

“Tasha, _who_?”

“ _He_ did,” she said, laughing. “Alsendur himself. I ran into him on his way out, and he blurted it out with a stupid grin. He’s not exactly _secretive_.”

“No, he’s not," Geth said.

Which wasn't exactly true. Sen kept secrets when it counted. And that was what mattered.

She squeezed his shoulder and said, “It’s about time you two got together.”

A stupid smile found its way onto Geth’s face as he said, “Yeah, it is.”

“Listen, I just wanted to say…” She glanced around and then smiled. “I’m happy for you. He’s probably too good for you, so don’t fuck it up, okay?”

“Thanks for that vote of confidence,” he said. 

Her support did help. It meant more than whatever his parents would say, which would inevitably have nothing to do with his happiness and everything to do with the family’s standing.

Geth held his sister back as they approached the parlor, realizing what this little chat would be.

“You _told_ her, didn’t you?”

Tasheene ruffled Geth’s hair out of place and then weaseled out of his grasp. She walked out onto the patio, and Geth followed, dragging his feet.

Sure enough, the first thing his mother said as he sat down was, “So. Alsendur Majarra.”

He smiled cooly at Tasheene and watched a golden mistwine pour into a tall glass and be placed in front of him. He picked it up, looked at the small bubbles cling to the crystal, and then repeated, “Alsendur Majarra.” He so rarely used his full name, and it sounded musical as he said it, like a small, magical song. Appropriate for a future bard. He smiled. “What about him?”

“I thought you were keeping him in reserve,” his mother said.

Geth’s airy smile vanished. “I have no idea what you mean,” he lied. “He’s not a cask of vintage. He’s my _friend_. Was my friend. Is.”

Andraethra Melshimber looked from Geth to Tasheene and back again. She raised her glass of mistwine, took a sip, and then held it aloft as she waited for Geth to say something. Anything.

He didn’t, instead taking his own glass and drinking–a little more than was proper.

“So?” she repeated.

Her real question wasn't lost on him, but he didn’t really want to answer it, so he plucked a piece of meat from the charcuterie and stuffed it in his mouth.

Tasheene cleared her throat and began to say, “I heard Lander Gauntyl–”

Andraethra raised a hand for silence, and Tasheene’s report cut off. “I want to hear all about it, Tasheene. _After_ your brother stops keeping us in the dark.”

Geth shrugged as he swallowed. “Nothing to say,” he said.

“You were at his house for Liar’s Night,” she countered.

He busied himself with cutting an edge of cheese and added, “Right, I was. Did you know that Dorian Amcathra is studying arcane magic? He cast an illusion–well above his level, so it must have been a scroll, but that means he at _least_ must be able to cast a few spells himself now…”

“I did know that, actually,” his mother said. “His parents are _very_ proud.”

“Must be nice for him,” Geth said, only somewhat snidely, and took a bite of the cheese. As he swallowed, he said, “Oh, and Vera’s going to talk to Osvaldo Cassalanter in the spring, before the Presentation Ball–assuming her years-long crush hasn’t suddenly died. Sen and Adrienne are both trying to talk her into saying something sooner, so they might strike up something in these last months and then carry on by letter over the winter.”

“Hm. That match could be trouble.”

Geth shrugged. Vera had been eyeing Osvaldo for years. “I can’t _stop_ them.”

“No, of course not. You don’t always have to _stop_ a thing from happening. Knowing that it will happen just lets you prepare, and mitigate the consequences.”

“Mitigate how?”

“When Lady Noreeve Cassalanter married Lord Avaldon Majarra, for example,” she said, eyeing Geth, “everyone thought she would take the Majarra support from us to House Cassalanter. By all rights, Avaldon could have joined the Cassalanters instead of the other way around. Most people expected it.But she and I are old friends, and her loyalty was to her friend and new family, not her brother. She became a Majarra.Of course, it helps that her brother married a woman who was terribly jealous of Noreeve and has strained their relationship.”

Geth furrowed his brow trying to follow the implications of his mother’s story, though it was hard to not just put himself in Noreeve’s–Sen’s mother’s–shoes. If he married Sen, wouldn’t he feel some loyalty to the Majarras?Especially if Tasheene married someone awful who hated him on principle. He might, like Noreeve, give up on his own House and call himself a Majarra. But that wasn’t what his mother had meant to teach him. 

“What are you saying?” he asked. “We use the power of friendship to make sure Vera and Osvaldo don’t form some kind of unholy alliance against us?”

“Oz _hates_ his parents,” Tasheene said blithely. “That marriage will take over everyone’s attention for a season, but the older he gets, the more divided his House will be.”

“Let the Cassalanters crumble, then,” Geth said. “Everyone knows the competition from other banking families is starting to squeeze them out. Vera thinks she’d be marrying up, but _she_ ’s the one everyone our age cares about. She could have anyone she wanted.”

Andraethra hummed to herself as Geth drank more of his mistwine. “Don’t underestimate House Cassalanter,” she said. “They hold more power than you realize, and they will do _anything_ to keep it.”

Geth shivered as a cool autumn wind blew through. Did Vera know that was the kind of family she was possibly going to tie herself to? Even if Osvaldo did hate his parents...

“And Geth,” his mother added, “don’t think I can’t tell that you’ve veered this conversation away from Alsendur.”

“Because I have _nothing to say_ ,” Geth repeated. “You have lunch with Sen’s mom every day, anyway. You know everything there is to know.”

“Because boys never know anything that they don’t share with their mothers?”

Geth set the glass down and looked his mother in the eye. “I’m not doing this, Mother. Not with Sen.”

“Excuse me? Our reputation–”

“Is safe.” 

The agreement was an unspoken one, like most things in their family. His parents never said a word about his behavior–his drinking, his flirtation, his gambling, and especially not his romantic dalliances–because they knew what they got in return: information. Valuable information that couldn’t be coaxed out of their fellow nobles without the aid of wine, flattery, elation, intimacy, or some combination thereof. He got to have fun, and they got knowledge. And knowledge, after all, was power. 

But he wasn’t with Sen for the fun of it. He wasn’t a dalliance. 

“Sen’s different," he said.

“How?”

“What we’re doing…” He thought back to Sen’s words. Something true and honest. “It’s not just some casual drunken fling.It’s something _real_.”

The corners of Andraethra’s lips tugged into a subtle smile. “Is that so?”

Tasheene stayed silent, watching the volley between them.

“Yes. So I can’t share what he tells me. That would betray his trust.”

“Geth, dear, it’s not–”

“I’m sorry,” he said, with an air of finality. The matter was settled, whether she liked it or not. Her authority would fade, but his promise to Sen was forever. “You don’t tell Grandmother _Father_ ’s secrets, do you?”

Andraethra’s mouth opened, and for once, she didn’t have an immediate response. “You think you’ll–?”

“I do,” Geth said, leaving the actual question unspoken. As always.

Tasheene’s eyebrows disappeared into her black bangs, and Andraethra nodded in concession. “All right, then,” she said. “If that's your intention, we’ll treat him as family, provisionally.”

“Provisionally?”

His mother nodded. “With the understanding that he’ll _help_ the family, when he’s part of it.”

Geth smiled, a somewhat warmer smile than before. “Of course he would. He’s going to be a bard, so he’ll learn all kinds of things. And he notices everything, details that the rest of us never–”

“Excuse me, children,” Andraethra interrupted, suddenly standing up. “Your father’s back.” She set her wine down and went inside the parlor, where their father had appeared and was approaching, a grim look on his face.

“He notices details, except that his best friend has a raging crush on him,” Tasheene quipped.

Geth blushed. “We all have blind spots,” he said with a shrug. 

As soon as the door closed, Tasheene leaned close to Geth, subtly blocking any view of her lips from the inside. “What happened to Sen wanting to be a Harper?” she whispered. “Will he answer to them or to her?”

Geth kicked her under the table. “Don’t you _dare_ say anything about that to her, Tash. I’ll _kill_ you. I'm not joking.”

“I won’t. But be careful, Geth.”

“I’m plenty careful,” he said. “And she won’t be in charge forever.”

“No, someday I will,” Tasheene said, leaning back with a resigned expression. “And I think it’s great that you’re finally serious about someone, so I’ll help you however I can. I'll find a way to make it work. But–”

“Don’t fuck it up.”

Tasheene smiled. “Exactly.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you read an earlier edit of this, you might have noticed the song was changed. The song that was originally here will reappear later on!


	6. Festival of the Moon 1488

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys say goodbye for winter.

FAREWELL TO SUMMER

Festival of the Moon

_ Sospirando _

Alsendur and Geth saw each other every day of the month of Uktar, fitting in quick visits between lessons, longer visits in evenings, day-long outings to see archers and hawkers compete in the Five Feathers, and languid afternoons soaking in the last of the sun’s warmth before winter’s chill took over for good.

The Festival of the Moon brought that last kind of day.It found Alsendur and Geth on the lawn in the courtyard of Melshimber Villa, watching dying leaves swept up in the salty wind. Warm harmonies rang out from Alsendur’s lyre while Geth lay with his head at Sen’s knees, twirling a leaf in his hands as he sang the chorus to a catchy song that had swept across Waterdeep over the last week.

As Geth sang the last words, Alsendur began to improvise, playing with the same interval and then exploring a different direction until he’d come up with a melody of his own. Alsendur hummed a counterpoint to the melody he was playing on the strings, and then looked up at Geth, who was squinting into the sun and smiling a crooked half-smile.

“What is it?” he asked, pausing the song.

“Nothing.”

“You’re making a face.”

Geth hummed a concession. “Just happy.”

Alsendur started back to playing, but two bars in, Geth began speaking again.

“You know how there’s a difference between the kind of _happy_ you are when you’re partying and having a great time and the kind of _happy_ where everything feels like it’s exactly how it should be, forever?”

Alsendur nodded. It was the feeling he had playing music, getting lost in a piece and having everything else just disappear.

“I’m that second kind of happy right now.”

Sen set down his lyre, ran his hand along Geth’s chest, and leaned over to kiss him as a chill breeze whipped around them.

“I wish we didn’t have to leave,” Geth said.

“I don’t want to think about that. We still have a week–”

“And then _three months_. I don’t–” Geth swallowed over his words in a rare show of weakness. “I don’t _want_ it, Sen.”

A smile tugged at Sen’s lips, sad as it was. “I know you’re used to getting your way, but I don’t think the seasons care what you want.”

“You could come with us to the vineyards for winter,” Geth said, pushing himself to sit up. “I’m sure I could get my parents to agree.”

“I can’t, Geth. Adrienne’s going through one of her _looking for answers_ phases. I can’t abandon her all winter.”

“ _Screw_ Adrienne,” Geth whined, not realizing how unattractive his selfishness was. “You could get away from uptight Arveene and meddlesome Gav and no-fun Lassail and anxious Garred and your parents for once and just–”

“Have to deal with _your_ parents instead?”

“You’d have _me._ ”

Alsendur looked away. “I wish we could just both stay in Waterdeep over the winter.”

“No one stays in Waterdeep over winter unless they _have_ to,” Geth noted. “Doesn’t that tell you something? It’s cold and icy. Grandmother says they don’t even remove the snow from the Sea and North Wards–except around the temples, I guess.”

Alsendur shrugged. “We could shelter in at my house. Further from the shore. It’s not like we need to leave for anything, and if we did, it’s not a long walk to the High Road, and they have to keep _that_ clear. We can get big snowboots and plod over and then catch a coach downtown, and then come back to a big fire and warm dinner and spiced wine.”

“Like our parents would let us stay in the city alone?” Geth huffed.

“I don’t see why not. We’re not _children_.” Alsendur furrowed his brow. “Anyway, Jhessail’s staying at New Olamn this winter, teaching some kind of class, so she’d be around if we needed anyone.”

Geth raised an eyebrow. “You think that would work?”

“Doesn’t hurt to ask.”

* * *

“Are you out of your _mind_?” Tasheene said. She covered the letter she had been writing and stood up from her desk, looking at the two of them like they’d suggested she marry a goblin. “Mother will _never_ allow that.”

“But why not?” Alsendur asked. “We’re responsible–”

“Ha!” Tasheene barked. 

“–and we wouldn’t be alone. Half of our help stays behind, and Lady Jhess is in town–”

“Across town, at New Olamn College.”

“Well, yeah,” Alsendur granted. He looked over at Geth with pleading eyes for help making their case.

Geth crossed his arms. “ _You_ could stay with us. Be the responsible one.”

Tasheene shook her long bangs out of her face. “I’m sorry. Why would I do that?”

“You don’t want space from Mother and Father?

Tasheene’s dark eyes flickered over to the door and back to the boys. She clearly did.“I can’t.”

“But–”

“Save it, Geth. I’m supposed to learn all the ropes about the wine trade from Uncle Irvagon this summer. I was _going_ to bring you along, so you can maybe take charge of that someday…”

Geth’s face wrinkled. “Tasha, no,” he whined. “I don’t want to run the _vineyards_.”

“You love wine!”

“I love _drinking_ it,” Geth said. “You know I’m supposed to take over for Father, not Irvagon.”

Tasheene’s eyes fell on Alsendur. “Sorry, Sen. Stupid family squabbles.”

Alsendur opened and closed his mouth. There was clearly more to the argument than either was letting on, which he didn’t appreciate, even if it made sense. “I didn’t mean to get in the middle of–”

“You aren’t,” Geth interrupted. He linked arms with Alsendur and stared down Tasheene. “Tasha, you said you’d help me. So help me. We’ll stay here and be the family’s eyes and ears in Waterdeep.”

“You?” Tasheene burst out into laughter. “ _Grandmother_ is going to stay and be our eyes and ears, Geth. Because she’s… you know, a titled noble with privileges of council and actual useful contacts. Unless you suddenly have developed an in with Lord Neverember? Or, as Grandmother calls him, _Dagult_?”

Alsendur grimaced. Geth had overplayed his hand, and they all knew it.

“Listen, if you want to go downstairs and try to talk to Mother, be my guest. But I’m not helping you ditch me for the winter just so you can bang your boyfriend–”

“We’re not _banging_ ,” Sen protested, as Geth said, “As if you’ve never ditched me!”

“Whatever,” Tasheene snapped. “I’m not helping, other than to say _get a better argument_.”

“Ugh, you suck!” Geth shouted, turning on his heel and dragging Alsendur out, though Sen looked back with an apologetic face.

Geth huffed as they started back downstairs. “She’s so obnoxious sometimes,” he said.

Alsendur shrugged a single shoulder. “She’s still cooler than Arveene. Vee’s just as bossy but ten times as serious.”

Geth stopped and took Sen by the shoulders. “That’s it.”

“What?”

“We ask your family first. They’re _way_ more reasonable.”

“That’s… not at all what was I was saying.”

Geth waved a hand, like that would rid them of any obstacles. “They’ll say okay.And if they okay it, my parents are more likely to go along.”

* * *

A half-hour walk and ten-minute plea later, Alsendur’s parents looked at each other and laughed.

“ _What_?” Sen asked.

Alsendur’s father squeezed his face into a pitying expression. “Neither of you boys have seen Waterdeep in the winter.”

“We’re not afraid of some _snow_ ,” Sen said, as if it were some brave thing.

His mother shook her head. “He means that it’s lonely. More lonely than a winter away.You’d be isolated, with no other friends, no visitors, no lessons, no parties, nothing to do at all, and many days when you’d be stuck in the house with no one but a servant or two.”

Alsendur started to say, “That’s fine, we don’t mi…” but he saw Geth’s face flicker with second thoughts, and he let his thought trail off.Of course Geth would mind. 

“I’m sure it sounds very romantic in that poetic head of yours, Alsendur,” his mother continued. “But I promise: you’ll be miserable within the month.”

“And then you’ll be trapped,” his father added. “The harbor freezes over, so you can’t escape halfway through winter.”

“We wouldn’t want to escape,” Sen argued.“And we’re best friends.We’d have each other.Better than a whole winter stuck with Gav.”

“I know you fight with your brother,” his mother argued, “but at the end of the day, he’ll always be your brother, even if you hate him.Whereas a long winter stuck together can doom even the strongest of couples. I’m sure even your father would go mad if we were trapped in a house for three months with no other friends to visit! I’d hate to see that kind of strain on you two when everything’s going so well.”

Avaldon put a hand on Sen’s shoulder and said, “We’re just trying to say that you should think about if that’s something you actually _want_ before we make any decision for you.”

Sen looked down at his shoes, trying to avoid eye contact with everyone else who seemed to know that this was true. He didn’t see how he could be _miserable_ if he was with his harp and his lyre and his best friend and basically soul mate, but… Geth would be. Geth needed people like Sen needed music. And he’d be a terrible friend and worse boyfriend to ask Geth to give that up for him.

“Sen…” Geth started, reaching out to take Alsendur’s hand. “Maybe they’re right.”

Alsendur nodded, finally looking up. “Yeah, probably.”

“I’ll still write to you,” Geth said, though they both knew that wasn’t the substitute that it had been in years past.

“That’s a great idea,” his mother said. “Some of the best writing has come out of correspondence, you know.And don’t worry. You’ll have plenty of years together.” She reached down and patted Sen’s cheek, adding, “But not so many years left at home, my sweet boy.”

Sen squirmed away, even more embarrassed than before. “Mother, _please_ ,” he hissed. He looked to Geth for help, but Geth was covering his mouth in a feeble effort to hide his laughter. “We should go. This was a waste of time.”

Geth took Alsendur’s hand, but he shook his head. “I don’t think it was a waste at all,” he said. “Thanks for the advice, Lord and Lady Majarra. It means a lot.”

Lady Majarra smiled and touched Geth’s cheek–a little less cloying than she had to Sen, but just as affectionately. “You’re a fine young man, Geth. Alsendur’s lucky to have you.”

Geth grinned. “He is,” he said, “but I’m pretty sure I’m the luckier one.”

* * *

They spent as much of the long night together as they could, celebrating the Moon and their ancestors in the masquerade at the City of the Dead.And then, with the arrival of Nightal in the morning, they said their goodbyes for the long winter.

“Don’t forget about me,” Alsendur said.Sure, his mother had said being stuck together all winter could doom a couple, but so could being away.He’d seen it happen–people realizing they didn’t really miss the person like they’d expected.

“I won’t forget you, but that’s why you have to write. Write me every day. Promise.”

“I promise to write,” Alsendur said. “Maybe not every day, but–”

“Every _day_ , Sen,” Geth demanded.“And come find me as soon as you’re back.”

“Obviously.”

“Goodbye, Alsendur Majarra.”

Alsendur bit his lip and focused on the sharp pain of it to keep himself from crying. He hadn’t thought it would be this bad to say goodbye, but suddenly it was. He threw his arms around Geth and squeezed him tight. “Goodbye, Geth. I’ll see you when the ice thaws.”


	7. Winter 1488-1489

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geth and Alsendur exchange letters over the course of the winter away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It seems worth noting at this point that the calendar followed here is the Calendar of Harptos, which is made up of 12 months of 30 days each, with five major holidays falling between certain months. Our story began on 5 Flamerule 1488, which is the equivalent of July 5. This chapter covers the months of Nightal (Dec 1-30), Hammer (Dec 31-Jan 29), and Alturiak (Jan 31-Mar 1).

3 Nightal 1488

Sen,

I know it’s only been three days since we left Waterdeep, but I’m already losing my mind. Mother and Father and Tasheene talk about politics all day. All. Day. You know I don’t hate it as much as you do, but after three hours of “Dagult this” and “Dagult that,” I never want to hear about the Open Lord ever again. Is it an affront to all the traditions of Waterdeep to let merchant families buy noble titles from struggling Houses? Yes. Is it offensive beyond measure that the Lord of the most magnificent city in all of Faerun chooses to spend all of his time and money in Neverwinter? Yes. Is his tax policy absurd? Probably, if I understood it. Do I need to talk about this for more than ten minutes? No!

Relatedly, have you ever thought about how gross the name Dagult is? It sounds like a bit of phlegm you coughed up. No offense to the man.  Full offense to his parents. At least his son has a decent name. And a decent face. And a whole decent package, all in all.Wow, it’s suddenly  very warm in here! 

(Don’t worry. I’ve only met Renaer Neverember twice and he’s  far too old for me, so I’m stuck with you, I’m afraid.)

I trust you won’t repeat any of that. Actually, you should probably burn this letter.

Look at me, a whole piece of parchment and all I’ve talked about is the Neverembers. Help! I’m becoming my parents! You must escape your beachfront paradise and come rescue me, posthaste, tout de suite.

If you cannot rescue me, at least write me a letter. I’m waiting.

Most impatiently,

Yours,

G. Melshimber

P.S. I wasn’t kidding about burning the letter. I’d be dreadfully embarrassed if anyone other than you should find it.

* * *

4 Nightal 1488

My dearest Sen,

I regret to inform you that I now understand Lord Neverember’s tax policy. I am held captive against my will and subject to the dullest conversations on this plane. Give me something interesting to talk about with my family, I beg you. I don’t care if it’s damning dirt on your dear Uncle Victoro or something inane about a new way Algavain has learned to fold paper. I cannot talk about politics for another day.

Desperately,

Yours,

G. Melshimber

* * *

5 Nightal 1488

Sen,

This is why you play music, isn’t it? To drown out the blather (hopefully not mine!)? I think I finally understand. I am going to do nothing but practice my lute for the next three months. Prepare to be amazed at my prowess.

Yours,

G. Melshimber

* * *

14 Nightal 1488

Dear Geth,

I’m sorry that I haven’t had a chance to write until now. Everything is somehow so busy all the time, even though there’s nothing happening. Five days in a row I’ve managed to finally get a second to write you, but then someone’s come in with some  urgent matter.

It’s never actually urgent. It’s usually Adrienne with some question about elven songs or to share something she learned in this book about Moon Elves that Vera gave her. It was a nice gift, I guess, except it’s just thrown her into a new spiral about her mother and now  I’ve been a captive audience learning all about the Teu-tel-quessir as much as you have about Neverember. Are you  sure your parents don’t know anything other than “some moon elf?” I’d hope if  I ran off with some elf in a huge scandal that people would bother to remember the elf’s name, if nothing else! I know I shouldn’t ask you for information like that. I just wish I could help her.

Sometimes it’s worse than that. Arveene tried to talk to me about some pamphlet she read about conditions in the silver mines, and then Gav needed me to help him pick out an outfit, as if he’s trying to impress someone here–and after making such a big deal about his “girlfriend”. Guessing by how he’s been eyeing any person his age (or older!) of means here, his stint with Miri Ilzimmer must be over. Good riddance, honestly. Feel free to share that with your family if you need a change of subject (the thing about Gav. I don’t actually know what Vee was trying to tell me). 

I’ll admit that it sounds like you have it worse. You have all my sympathy. Thankfully my family doesn’t talk much about politics–or if they do, I’m definitely not in the room. Playing music does help. I can’t wait to hear your progress on the lute! I’m enclosing some music for a song that I think you’ll enjoy playing. There’s one tricky transition, but it sounds like you have plenty of time to practice.

Keep writing! I’ll try to write again before too many more days go by. I do miss you. So, so much.

Your dearest friend,

Alsendur

P.S. Were you serious about the whole “burning” thing? I’d rather save anything that reminds me of you, but I don’t want to ignore your wishes if they were serious...

* * *

19 Nightal 1488

Dear Alsendur Majarra,

How dare you leave me without a single letter for nearly two weeks?! I’m so angry I almost wanted to refuse to write you back, but I’ve already been doing that for two weeks and I can’t do that any longer.

Yes, Sen, of course I was serious about the burning. Unless you think you are destined to be some great figure of legend and you want some crotchety old sage like my great-uncle Thobaios to collect all of your papers and preserve them in some vault in Candlekeep.

Speaking of which! Father has to take a trip there at some point over winter, and he says he might bring me along. Honestly it sounds like a dreadful bore, but it’s a sign of approval of some kind, I think, that he might want to teach me some of the ropes. (Though I don’t know what there is to teach about “give some wizards a fat lot of gold on the regular”? I guess I’ll learn!) They were all very pleased about your tidbit about Gav and Miri I., and even more so that you said I could share. They love you! They also love anything that keeps the Ilzimmers down, so I’m sure that was as much it as anything. 

More importantly, though, I looked at a map to be sure, and guess what? You are  near Candlekeep! I don’t think I’d be able to make a whole weeklong visit of it, which I’d much prefer, but maybe a night? This is now my sole goal. That, staying sane, and not murdering my cousins who have now begun to arrive. Joy upon joy.

I have so much more to tell you, but there’s a messenger waiting and he’s staring at me so the rest will have to wait for another letter. Don’t wait another two weeks, or I will DIE.

Still impatiently yours,

G. Melshimber

* * *

25 Nightal 1488

Dear Geth,

I told you I was sorry for the wait!

First things first: YOU MIGHT COME TO VISIT? I don’t care if it’s just for one day, you  have to make it happen. Seaside is actually very nice so far, though it would be nicer with you here. We spend almost all day outside, as it’s been warm here this month, though it won’t be much longer. Not warm enough to swim, but enough for seaside picnics and walks outside. You’d like it here. Please, please visit.

Here’s another fun Gav tidbit, but this one is  not for your family: what with Gav’s ridiculous rebound phase going on, he came home so excited and told us ALL about this boy he’d met. Gorgeous, he says, long wavy hair, sculpted features, sculpted abs, etc. etc. etc. Clearly someone you’d remember if you’d seen him before, right? So somehow he either is an idiot or a liar, because he starts telling us about how this boy is from  Neverwinter . Whatever, I think! Lots of people are from Neverwinter, right? But still, a noble from Neverwinter. “Does he know Triev?” I ask. You might have forgotten Triev since it was five years ago and I  only talked about him for three months nonstop, but that’s the Neverwinter boy who was my first kiss years and years ago. You remember now, I’m sure.

Well, wouldn’t you know, it’s a shame, Gav’s new fling doesn’t know Triev! HE  IS TRIEV. That’s right. My fucking idiot brother has been macking on my first boyfriend–maybe boyfriend is a generous term given the whole six days we were together, but still. He swears up and down that he had no idea. Algavain Majarra, ladies and gentlemen.

You know the funniest thing? I expected to be jealous, but I wasn’t. Maybe a little jealous as Triev has  definitely weathered the years well, but more weirded out than anything–can you imagine dating two people in the same family? But my only thought (other than “Is Gav an idiot or a liar?”) was… “Good for Gav! Much better than Miri Ilzimmer.” Because as beautiful as Triev is (and he is, I won’t lie), you’re ten times more. And you’re funnier. And a better kisser. Gav can have Triev. I’m the winner here.

Totally yours,

Alsendur Majarra

P.S. I’m working on another song for you, but you’ll have to wait until you can hear it in person.

* * *

30 Nightal 1488

My dearest Sen,

What an absolutely delicious story that was. Thank you. I’m glad that I have beat out the competition.

Our Candlekeep visit is set for Midwinter (because that’s a delightful time to travel!). Father is insistent that we not stop for even a night, but I’m fairly certain I’ve talked him into a detour that would give us a few hour visit, at least.

Now it’s my turn to share a story, because we  finally had some decent company come by. The Hothemers had a caravan coming through our way, so they came and have been staying for a few days until the weather gets a little better (there are worse places than a vineyard estate for your traveling stop). 

As you can imagine, Mardon was about as bored as I was after a day of catching up and lounging around, so we went on a day trip into Scorbunel and hit the local festhall scene. In a word:  wow . The drinks! The dancers! The dice! The music! I wish you’d been there. Four very welcoming escorts kept us company all evening. No, I did not make use of their full services, don’t worry, though one of them had your tawny complexion and knowing smile and it made me miss you a  lot despite trying to think about anything other than being a sorry sad sap on a dull vacation without you. But they did somehow sweet-talk stupid Mardon into dropping an obscene amount of gold on higher and higher bids. I think he lost 50 gold pieces in all, while I actually went home with 10–though I gave those to him to soften the blow he’d face with his parents. I am nothing if not a generous, charitable person who looks out for his friends.

Tomorrow is a New Year and marks one month of this dreadful exile completed.

Two weeks until we leave for Candlekeep!

Until then, I remain

Yours,

G. Melshimber

* * *

7 Hammer 1489

Dear Geth,

So glad you’re having so much fun with Mardon and the festhalls. But you can only spare a few hours to visit when you come  here ?

I don’t have anything else to say, really, but I knew if I didn’t write you’d assume I was angry and jealous and I’m not. So this is me writing.

Midwinter can’t come soon enough.

-Alsendur

* * *

13 Hammer 1489

Sen,

For not being angry, you sound very angry. I’m sure the warmth in your tone just isn’t coming through over paper. This is why the written word, in my opinion, will always be inferior to the spoken word.

Good thing I’m about to spend a week in a dusty library, right?

We’re leaving in seven days, which means that by the time you get this letter, you won’t be able to write back before I’m gone. But that means that before we write again, we’ll see each other in person! Our plan is to come to you after we finish our business in Candlekeep, so I expect that to be at the end of the month or the beginning of next month.

Expectantly yours,

G. Melshimber

* * *

25 Hammer 1489

Dearest Alsendur,

I am in Candlekeep and so infuriatingly close but far. It’s been good to have time with Father on the journey and while here. Unfortunately, he’s decided I’m some kind of research assistant. I thought we were just here to rub elbows and give some Midwinter coin, but apparently we’re also here for the books. Who would’ve guessed! I can’t wait to see you. Nine more days here, and then we should come to you on the tenth. And the carriage won’t be the only thing coming, if you know what I mean.

Almost yours,

G. Melshimber

* * *

30 Hammer 1489

Sen,

There’s no good way to say this, but we can’t come. Tasha’s sick and we have to leave straightaway. I didn’t want you to think we’d forgotten or been kidnapped en route or worse. I’m devastated, but she’s my sister and I can’t ask for a detour. I’ll see you soon enough. Midwinter is tomorrow and then spring will be on its way, and our return to Waterdeep with it.

I’m sorry.

Geth

* * *

5 Alturiak 1489

Dear Geth,

I’m so sorry to hear about Tasheene. Is it okay if I tell my family? They will want to put her in their prayers. She is in mine, as are you. I won’t pretend I’m not heartbroken to not see you, but I would do the same thing in your shoes.

It’s been a month since I’ve been able to write to you, though, and my last letter was so curt, and I’ve hated that that was the last thing I sent. So I have something to say:

I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you.

I cannot wait to see you again.

Write again when you are back, and keep me updated about Tasheene.

Love,

Sen

* * *

11 Alturiak 1489

Dear Sen,

We’re returned safely to the vineyards. There’s someone here treating Tasha, and they seem very good. Not that my parents would ever hire any but the best.

I don’t want to put too much in writing, but suffice it to say, it doesn’t seem natural. You can tell your parents that she is unwell, but make sure they know not to tell anyone else, and don’t tell them any more than that. I hate to ask you to hide something from your family, but I wasn’t even supposed to tell you. Everyone knows I’m a fuckup, and too many rivals and enemies of House Melshimber benefit if we lose Tasheene.

Trusting your confidence, I am still

Yours,

G. Melshimber

16 Alturiak 1489

* * *

Dear Geth,

I have not said any more than you asked, and all your letters have been burned, as you asked, even if it broke my heart to see our whole correspondence reduced to ash. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if even the stupidest ink scratch in a letter were to help anyone hurt you or Tasheene. You know I love you, and you are both like family. I’m praying morning and night for her and you. Please let me know what happens, even if you need to use Illusory Script or a cipher.

You are not a fuckup. Tasheene will be okay, but if you should ever need to rise to the occasion to hold your family together, you would do it magnificently. I believe in you, even if you don’t believe in yourself. I love you.

With all my heart,

Alsendur

* * *

22 Alturiak 1489

Dear Sen,

She is well again, praise All-Knowing Oghma and all the gods. Thank you for your prayers and concern. I’m just sorry that the timing of all of this made me miss our visit. I’ll write again soon, but first I wanted you to know.

I cannot say who might have done this to us. After all, when you are at the top, everyone has a knife out for you. We’ll probably never know for sure, but I have my own suspicions. Often it’s those who are closest to us in one way that are the most dangerous in another. Jealousy drives us to do all kinds of things to those we pretend to like. Not just you and I, but all people. No-one is above envy, try as they might–even the gods are known to be struck by it. But then, it could have been anyone looking for revenge.

I have been unsure how to respond to your declarations of love. Love–as you know from your poetry–is a tricky thing to define. You know I care deeply about you, that I trust you like no one else short of possibly my sister, and that I think about you every day. 

Is that enough? Does that make sense?

Yours, always,

G. Melshimber

* * *

Alsendur scrunched his nose, reading over the words of the letter. I n a faintly glowing magical ink, a postscript appeared, reading:

_ Sen, the emphases above will only appear for your eyes, and I trust you will know how to read and understand why you cannot speak of this to anyone, including your family. We cannot be too careful. _

His eyes darted across the page: cannot, all, sure, suspicions, another, like, all, no one, try, even, revenge. It didn't quite form a coherent idea or sentence. But he remembered a conversation they'd had once, about different ciphers used by Harper spies, and he looked again, taking only the first letter of each.

_CASSALANTER_.

His mother's family. House Melshimber's greatest rivals.

* * *

27 Alturiak 1489

Dear Geth,

I was so glad to read the good news, but I was taken aback by the final message. I know you said you can’t say for sure, but what you suggest is serious, to say the least. I’m no stranger to jealousy, as you know, but do you really think those you suggest would do such a thing? I told you I see you and Tasheene as family, but you also say family isn’t to be trusted. I’ll keep your confidence, whatever I do, but would someone so high in status stoop so low?

And why are you so afraid to be in love?

Yours,

Alsendur


	8. Ches 1489

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geth and Alsendur finally return to Waterdeep, but their reunion is explosive in all the wrong ways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for discussions of adolescent sex (both are 17). Characters' opinions of what does and does not count as sex are their own and do not necessarily reflect the author's.

THE FINAL LETTERS OF WINTER

2 Ches 1489

Dearest Alsendur,

It is the finally month of Ches! Lathander be praised! Our too-long time apart is almost over. Vanish, horrible winter! Exile, be gone! You and I will soon be back in Waterdeep, where we belong. One month from now, all of this will be a memory. Understand?

It’s almost over. As to your questions, the first is tricky. Matters of that sort should be discussed in person. In a few weeks, we can do just that. Now, your second question, I can address here. Love is not a simple thing. One person means one thing by it, another means another. Vanity makes us think we are in love when we are not, mixing up the pleasure of being loved for something deeper. Ego isn’t love, is it? 

When  you say you love me, what do you mean by it? I want to be able to tell you, without any doubt, that I am in love with you. Truly. However, I’ve never really believed in the idea of love. You have to understand, I’m not trying to be cold. Our minds play tricks on us. Unless we can be sure that we aren’t just caught up in a moment, can we really say something like that?

When I see you again, it may be different. I may become a fool for love. To see you again may make all these philosophical objections meaningless. Hopefully, that’s true and I can say what you want me to say, but for now, I can say this:

Alsendur Majarra, you are the most important person in my life. Literally. Love or not, I don’t want any kind of life without you in it. Maybe that’s being in love. You make me a better person. How do I put that into a simple emotion? Every time I think about you, I feel like I’ve taken a healing potion and could do anything. And is that being in love? Return to Waterdeep, and I will tell you everything you mean to me. Til then, I am blissfully and anticipatingly

Yours,

Geth

* * *

8 Ches 1489

Dear Geth,

I don’t know what to make of your last letter. I’ve read it over and over. I gave it to Adrienne to read. She thinks you are being an asshole. I think you are in love with me, and I just don’t know why you won’t say it. I don’t want clever speculations. When I say I love you, I mean that you are a light that shines on everything in my life, making it clearer, better, more beautiful. When I say that I’m in love with you, I mean that you’re my inspiration and my muse. When I sit down and pick up my lyre, I think of you, and I play more beautifully than I would have.

Our ship sails in a tenday, so I may not be able to respond to your next letter. But then we will be back in Waterdeep and I’ll be in your arms again–and maybe then, like you said, you’ll feel differently.

With love and in love,

Sen

* * *

13 Ches 1489

Alsendur Majarra,

Read my last letter one more time, Aspiring Harper. Clearly, you have not burned it like the others, though you should. Burn this one as well.

I’ll see you in Waterdeep.

Expectantly yours,

G. Melshimber

* * *

18 Ches 1488

Alsendur sat in the empty beach house, holding his last two letters from Geth in front of the dying fire as his family loaded into the carriages that would take them to the docks and back home. He _hadn’t_ burned the one from the second of the month. It had been too full of sentiment, even while refusing to admit to being in love. As instructed, he read it once more, committing as much of it to memory as he could, and then he cast both letters into the fire.

The very last letter curled, corners turning black and then catching fire.

The letter dated 2 Ches did not. It remained untouched, as if he’d thrown it on a play fire–except that some letters seemed to glow.

He darted a hand into the fire to snatch the letter out and lift it over the embers, close enough to still activate whatever magical effect it had. As he did, he saw that the first letter of every sentence glowed with flame, spelling out a message:

_ Dearest Alsendur, _

_ I L O V  
E Y O  
U _

_ I A M  
I N L  
O V  
E _

_ W I  
T H Y  
O U _

_ W I T  
H _

_ A L L  
M Y H  
E  
A R _

_ T _

_ Yours, _

_ Geth _

* * *

TOGETHER AGAIN, AGAIN ALONE

21 Ches 1488

_Con Fuoco_

Alsendur was only home long enough to wash off the grime of traveling and change into proper clothing before he was back out the door. He did want to be home, in his own room and bed, but he wanted to see Geth again much, much more. 

He had the family’s carriage take him across town to the Sea Ward, staring out the window in anticipation as it rode along the Street of the Singing Dolphin, passing a number of other distinctive noble villas: the glittering windows of the Moonstars, the tall imposing walls of the Urmbrusks, the pointed iron-wrought gates of the Ilzimmers, and the spiked outer walls of the Husteems. A short turn-off led to the aptly named Street of Whispers, where anything seen or heard would, within minutes, be brought to the attention of the Matriarch of House Melshimber.

And there at the very end of the street stood the Melshimber estate, bounded by four white-washed buildings and a white wall enclosing the courtyard between. The first of these, the Silken Sylph, was already bustling with nobles and wealthy merchants and wine aficionados dining and drinking in glimmering magical light. The second, running alongside the Street of Whispers, had once been the old library, a private research collection maintained by the Melshimbers’ Master of Pages. Many of its older materials had since been donated to the Font of Knowledge, the temple of Oghma, and now it served more as a meeting and work space for eccentric historians and dull sages supported by House Melshimber. Opposite the Old Library stood the Vintage House, which, true to its name, was the public front for wine sales, though the most important customers and guests would be taken downstairs through the Vintage House and into the extensive cellars and tasting room that ran beneath the estate. Finally, at the far North end, stood the manor house, Alsendur’s destination.

He jumped out of the carriage and practically burst into the house as soon as a servant in Melshimber livery opened the door.

“Welcome back, Master Majarra! Master Geth said to send you right upstairs whenever you arrived, so–”

Alsendur wasted no time and began bounding up the grand stairway, turning the corner toward Geth’s rooms. As he did, Geth’s voice came echoing down the hall.

“Sen?! Sen!”

Geth seemed to fly down the hall as Alsendur rushed forward and caught up in his arms. He’d waited three months for this kiss, and it didn’t disappoint. It was even better than his memories or expectations, because it was _real_. Geth was really there, solid and pressing back against him, tasting faintly of Manycherries wine and smelling like his spiced perfume. Alsendur’s head spun and he took tighter hold of Geth, who had managed to slip a hand between them and between Sen’s legs.

Alsendur heard himself let out an involuntarily moan, and then pulled away to say, “We should go to your room.”

“Good idea,” a woman’s voice said behind him, and Alsendur snapped away from Geth.

“Tasheene!”

“Hi, Sen. Good to see you again.”

“Uh, y-yeah,” he stammered. “I’m glad you recovered. Geth said you’d been ill.”

Tasheene’s eyes flickered over to Geth and then back. “Thank you. When I’ll find out who did it, they’ll pay.”

“Oh–you–” Alsendur looked at Geth, unsure what he was supposed to know or not know. “You think it was on purpose?”

Tasheene smiled. “It’s okay–Geth told me he told you as much.”

“Oh.”

“You’ll tell him if you hear anything that might give us answers, I trust.”

Alsendur nodded. “Um, yeah. Of course.

Geth tugged on Alsendur’s hand and leaned in close to catch Sen’s earlobe between his teeth. Alsendur swatted him away, but Geth only redoubled his efforts to capture his attention–not that it was difficult to do. “Come _on_ ,” Geth whined.

“I’ll see you later, Sen,” Tasheene said. “My brother clearly wants you alone.”

“Like it’s unreasonable!” Geth said.

Tasheene laughed and waved them away. “Go on. Just don’t do anything stupid.”

Geth dragged Alsendur down the hall, saying, “I thought about you every _single_ day. Can we never do that again?” 

“What about next winter?” 

“Shit, I don’t know, Sen. I don’t want to think about the _winter_. It’s spring. I have you here now.” He pulled Alsendur into his sitting room and kicked the door shut behind them.

Alsendur grinned. “Finally.”

Geth pulled him close again, but Alsendur looked back at the door, remembering Tasheene’s sinister words. “You really think the Cassalanters did that?” he whispered.

“Sen, not _now_ , please,” Geth whined. “I want–”

“My _mother_ ’s a Cassalanter, I can’t believe they’d–”

“Your mother chose to be a _Majarra_. For a reason, I assume?”

Alsendur shrugged. He’d never thought much of it. He’d never been that close to Uncle Victoro or Aunt Ammalia, but Osvaldo was decent enough, and they never seemed like cutthroat murderers. “I don’t...”

“Sen.” Geth took his hands in his and looked earnestly up at him. “There’s no evidence. And if it’s them, there will never _be_ evidence. They’re not idiots. But they hate that we’re always edging them out, and they stand the most to gain from us falling.”

“What about House Ilzimmer? They worship Talona. She’s the _goddess_ of poison and disease…”

“Of course, they’re the prime suspects. But isn’t that suspicious itself? If your family wanted to take out a rival, would they do it with a silver harp? Isn’t that a little on the nose?”

Alsendur opened his mouth, but no words came out.

“Forget it. I don’t want to talk about this, Sen. I just–”

“Then why did you tell me? In your letter?”

Geth shook his head in confusion. “Because I trust you. You’re the _only_ one I completely trust.”

“Because you’re in love with me,” Alsendur said.

Geth grinned. “So you figured it out.”

“Eventually.” Alsendur pulled Geth closer. And then they were back where they’d been when Tasheene interrupted them, desperately making up for lost time, holding onto each other like something would snatch either one of them away at any minute. Geth pressed forward until Alsendur found himself backed into a wall, and only then did Geth’s mouth travel to his neck, letting Sen breathe and say, “Gods, I’ve missed you.”

“Me _too_ ,” Geth said, unfastening Sen’s belt and coming to his knees. “That’s what I’ve been trying to say. Are you done talking now?”

“Yeah, done talking,” Alsendur said, hardly able to remember what they’d even been talking about.

“Good. Because as much as I like talking, I’d rather do this.”

As much as kissing Geth had been hundreds of times better than his memories of kissing, the feeling of Geth’s hands and mouth on him made all of his nights fantasizing about their return seem like impressions in grey compared to the world in color.

As promised, they didn’t do much talking about anything else until later, when tired hands and cramped jaws won out over the insatiable need to make up for so much lost time.

They were laying across the floor of the room, staring at the ceiling, when Geth said, “Sen?”

“Hmm?”

“I want us to have sex.”

Technically they’d already done plenty that Alsendur would’ve called _sex_ , including about two minutes ago. “Didn’t we just–” 

“Don’t be obtuse, Sen, you _know_ what I mean,” Geth said. “I want you inside me. Do you need me to draw you a diagram, or…?” 

“No.” He one-hundred-percent did not. “I know what you mean.”

Whatever Alsendur thought Geth was going to say, it wasn’t that. He turned his head, eyebrows raised, but didn’t say anything. Geth didn’t react. He just kept looking at the ceiling.

“I… Are you sure?” It wasn’t that he hadn’t thought about it plenty, but that had always been abstract. Having a _conversation_ made everything suddenly seem much more Serious and Important.

“I wouldn’t have said it if I wasn’t sure,” Geth said, pushing himself off the floor to sit cross-legged. “I’ve been thinking about it all winter. And I talked to Tasheene.”

“You talked to _Tasheene_ about _sex_ with me?” he asked, sitting up himself to face Geth.

“Uh, yeah. She’s my older sister. That’s what she’s for. Giving sage advice, and all that. And she agreed. We’re old enough. We’re not seeing anyone else. And we’ve been together for almost six months.” 

“That’s not that long.” 

“That’s _forever_ for nobles before a debut. We’re practically betrothed.” 

Alsendur backed up. “I wouldn’t say–” 

“You wouldn’t?” Geth laughed. “We’ve already agreed we would marry if we were twenty and hadn’t fallen in love. We’re seventeen now and in love with each other and not dating anyone else. So… were you planning to marry someone else in that time?”

It was suddenly very difficult to breathe in Geth’s room, like they’d ascended a mountain too quickly. It had been fine before, and then suddenly this was about Tasheene and then it was about marriage and their future and promises for life. Sen stood up and crossed to a window, opening it for fresh air. “I–I don’t know. I hadn’t… thought about it?”

Geth’s face twisted into a strange mix of confusion and anger as he stood up and crossed his arms. “So good to hear you haven’t thought about marrying someone else,” he said, in the cattiest tone he could.

“I haven’t thought about getting married at all! You know I’m still training to be a bard–”

“How long is that supposed to take, anyway?”

“I don’t know!” Sen snapped, a little too sharp. He’d been applying himself to it for two years with nothing to show, and sometimes it was hard to remember that not everything was going to come as easily as the harp had to him. He took a deep breath and clarified: “It depends, person to person. I have a lot of the theory down, and it just… hasn’t come yet.”

“Okay. That’s fine. We can still be _together_ throughout your training or whatever. And when you finish… you know I’ve never cared about all that, you needing to leave for adventures.”

“I didn’t know that.” Alsendur shook his head. “I thought you were only okay with that as a backup.”

Geth laughed. “What can I say? My backup became my first choice!” His smile faded and his brow furrowed. “Is that only true for me?”

“You’ve always been my first choice,” Alsendur muttered. “But... Even _twenty_ always sounded young. I was okay with it, because your parents set that deadline, and I wasn’t going to abandon you.”

“I don’t get the hangup, Sen,” Geth said. “I know you haven’t sampled as many of the goods out there, as it were, but you aren’t missing anything. We’re special, because we have _history_. Friendship going back years and years, and total trust. And I’m in love with you. And you’re in love with me, right?”

“I am. Absolutely.”

“And it’s politically smart, too,” Geth said. “I know your family would welcome my gold, and I know my family would love to secure Majarra support for another generation. Unless you’re about to steal Vera from Osvaldo or snag one of the Ilzimmers, it’s not like you could make a match with anyone near as good as a Melshimber, and honestly, unless I develop a newfound interest in women or Dorian Amcathra starts liking men, I can’t make a better match than Majarra–a House that’s had an impeccable reputation for centuries and a royal lineage to boot.”

Alsendur’s face soured. He didn’t want to think of this as a _good match_. It seemed to corrupt everything good about what they had.

“I’d want to marry you anyway,” Geth assured him. “I’m just trying to say that it’s not like this is some irresponsible childish thing. We can marry for love _and_ make our families happy, like Vera always says. I don’t know how many situations that would be true of.”

“I know that.”

“So?”

Alsendur shrugged. “People can change. Marriage is permanent. What if five years from now I’m different and you don’t feel the same way?”

Geth laughed. “Sen, you’ve been the same perfect dope for as long as I can remember, and I’ve adored you as long as I can remember. How could you _possibly_ change in any way that would change that?”

“I don’t know, Geth. This is just…” Alsendur took a deep breath. “A lot.” He sat down on the blue velvet sofa and tried to steady himself.

As his eyes raised, he saw Geth standing there, suddenly cold.

“Come on, Geth. Don’t be pissed.”

“I’m not pissed. I…” Geth shook his head jerkily, holding back some other emotional reaction. Everything about it was all wrong. Geth didn’t get emotional. He was cavalier and playful and savage, and Alsendur loved those things about him. “I knew you might not be _exactly_ where I am,” he continued, “and that’s fine, but I thought we were moving in the same direction.”

“We are.”

“No, we clearly aren’t,” Geth said, his voice sharp. “I would draw up a betrothal contract _today_ if I didn’t think you’d run for the hills. But you don’t even want to think about the fact that we _might_ get married one day.”

“It’s not that I _never_ want to, but we’ve only been together six months!” Alsendur said, exasperated once more. “And we’re seventeen! Why in all hells are we talking about marriage anyway? I don’t need to marry you to sleep with you!”

Geth’s eyebrows bent into a V and he let a cold silence fall over the room for a full five seconds before saying, “Good for you. But if _I’m_ going to sleep with someone, I want it to be someone I’m planning to stay with.”

Alsendur laughed, short and bitter. “Since when does that matter to you?”

If Geth had been cold before, he was formed of some kind of eldritch ice now. His face slackened into a stone mask, except for eyes that blinked a little too quickly, staving off the embarrassment of tears. “I’ve–” he started, catching himself. “You have _no idea_ what you’re talking about, Sen.”

“Oh, none of those boys before me fucked you?”

Geth didn’t answer the question. He just pointed at the door and said, “I think you should go home.”

“Come on,” Alsendur said. “Don’t be angry just because–”

“I’m not _angry_ ,” Geth said. “You’re spiralling out and being a complete asshole, Sen, and you need to leave and stop saying shit you don’t understand before you say something you can’t take back.”

Alsendur should’ve just apologized, but this all felt wildly unfair. He’d been the one to admit interest, the one to ask for the relationship, the first to admit love and to being in love, and now he was suddenly the bad guy? “Geth, this is–”

“I’ll see you at the festival on Eighth-Day. If that isn’t too much of a _commitment_ for you to make.”

Alsendur furrowed his brow, picked up his cloak, and left without another word.

* * *

GHOSTS OF MEMORY

23 Ches 1488

_Con Bravura_

Two days later, Alsendur was window-shopping with Adrienne and Vera when someone grabbed his arm. He spun on the person, ready to shout for help, but it was–

“Tasheene?”

“Hello,” she said, with a razor-sharp smile. She looked over at the girls and nodded to them in greeting. “Nice to see you two again. Vera, I hear you snagged Osvaldo. Congratulations.”

Vera blushed. “I didn’t _snag_ him. I haven’t even made my Debut yet, so...”

“Nevertheless,” Tasheene said, done with the niceties. She tightened her grip on Alsendur’s arm. “Walk with me, Majarra.”

Alsendur looked back at the girls. Adrienne shrugged and Vera waved _goodbye_ , so he sighed and let Tasheene lead him away, across the street. It was only as they crossed that he noticed a soldier in Melshimber silver-and-blue crossing behind them. Another way in which Tasheene’s and Geth’s lives were so strikingly different despite being sister and brother.

“A curious thing happened yesterday,” Tasheene said as she turned them off Golden Serpent’s Street and onto Mhalsymber’s Way, past shops and cafes and taverns. “You see, I spent three months in the Heartlands with my brother, who talked about you every _single_ day and literally was counting down days until our return. And when I saw you last, it seemed like you two were… on good terms, let’s say.”

 _On good terms_ was generous. Alsendur looked away, flushing hot and mortified that she’d seen them all over each other. Geth did always say there was no such thing as privacy at Melshimber Villa.

“But then you left and he hasn’t come out of his room, and when I went to talk to him, he said that you’d said some _pretty shitty_ things.”

“Oh,” Alsendur said, looking back at the soldier who was following them. He was there to keep Tasheene safe, of course, not to beat up terrible boyfriends, but that didn’t make it any less intimidating. “I… sort of.”

Tasheene walked them up to a storefront where a halfling on some kind of platform was selling Maztican chocolate. 

They joined a short line and Tasheene said, in a far too reasonable tone, “The thing you learn in my line of business, Sen, and I’m sure you’ve found in yours, is that no story is the full truth. People only experience life from their point of view, and then their memories make their reports even less reliable. I know my brother’s version of the story. I’d like to know yours.”

They reached the front of the line.

“I’ll have one chocolate, with fire and love,” Tasheene said, _fire_ being the hot spices blended into the chocolate and _love_ being a heavy dose of heavy cream. “And one...” She looked at Sen.

“I don’t need–”

“Order something,” she commanded, fixing him with her green eyes.

“I’ll have the same,” he said.

She turned back to the halfling and smiled. “Make it two.”

“Fifteen copper,” the halfling said.

Alsendur had already started fumbling in his coin purse, and he handed over two silver shards before Tasheene was able to. “Keep the change,” he said.

The halfling hummed happily and clinked the coins into a drawer before disappearing behind the counter.

“I hope Geth doesn’t make you pay,” she said.

Alsendur shook his head. “Not unless he’s forgotten his money that day.”

“He always forgets his money.”

Alsendur shrugged. “We don’t keep track, honestly. Most places just take our names, anyway.”

“Right.”

The halfling suddenly reemerged, two steaming pewter mugs in hand. “There you are, fine Lady and young Lord. Bring back the mugs for a discount next time–not that, ah, you’d need one, but–”

“Understood,” Tasheene said, taking the drinks and handing one to Sen. She turned back toward the street, and Sen gave the halfling a polite nod of thanks.

“So,” Tasheene said as they started walking again. “I’m waiting.”

Alsendur kept his eyes on the chocolate, trying to keep the still-too-hot drink from spilling, and said, “We… um. Geth said we were basically betrothed, and I… I felt like that was locking us in a little too fast. We haven’t even been Presented. But he acted like I was saying I didn’t want to marry _him_ when I was just trying to say I didn’t want to promise to marry _anyone_ yet.”

“Mmhmm. And?” She drank her chocolate as she walked, waiting for him to talk. That had always been her way: prompting you to fill in the uncomfortable silence until she got the answers she wanted.

“And…” Sen nervously sipped his drink, which burned his tongue, but he didn’t want to let her see a reaction, so he carried on like it had been just fine. “He said he only wanted to… ah… sleep with me? if we were at least intending to stay together? Honestly, that’s unfair, because I do want to stay together, but it also seemed like a weird thing to say given his past… romantic history. Which is what I said. But he said I was wrong, and when I tried to talk about it, he told me to leave. So I did.”

Tasheene cut her eyes to Alsendur and huffed in a half-amused sort of way that seemed to say, _You and I both know that’s only half the story._

Alsendur opened his mouth to clarify, but she shushed him and guided them through an archway entry into the City of the Dead. She seemed to scan their surroundings and then, apparently satisfied, ushered Alsendur to a bench that was near… nothing, really. Graves, a winding path, and little else. The soldier followed them in and positioned himself next to a memorial statue about forty feet away, though as they sat and and the sunlight glinted off the hilt of a dagger strapped to Tasheene’s boot, the soldier’s presence seemed to be more as a deterrent than anything.

“Sen, did it ever occur to you to _ask_ Geth if he slept with anyone else?”

Alsendur looked intently at his chocolate, trying to comb through his memories. “Vorth Emveolstone… said they did. I remember that.”

“You trust Vorth Emveolstone?”

Alsendur had very little opinion at all of Vorth. He was two years older, closer to Tasheene’s age than his, and generally ran in very different circles of young nobles. “No,” he admitted. “But Vera definitely asked Geth if it was true, and Geth didn’t… say anything.”

Tasheene’s eyes narrowed.

“But if someone says something like that and it isn’t true, you’d tell people they were lying. Wouldn’t you? _I_ would.”

“You might.” Tasheene cupped her hands around her drink and looked down. “But I told him not to.”

“What?”

“Sen, I’m going to tell you something in confidence. Do you understand? I trust you not to repeat any of this.”

Alsendur nodded. He was used to this kind of serious invoking of the notion of _confidence_ from Geth, which was, after all, only natural for a family that had turned a penchant for gossip into an art and trade. “I understand.”

“Good.” She took a sip of her chocolate and then said, “The first time it happened was with Gontar Irlingstar. You remember, I’m guessing?”

Sen nodded. That had been two years ago, when they were fifteen.

“Gontar told his friends an… _embellished_ version of events, and Geth was devastated. He locked himself in his room for a day, and then came out calling for Gontar’s head. He was _furious_ that Gontar had lied, made him sound easy, or–worst of all in his eyes, that he’d deign to ever sleep with an _Irlingstar_. You know how Geth gets…”

Alsendur nodded, and a small flicker of a smile passed over his lips imagining Geth saying the exact words.

“I’m the one who told him to let it go. Let Gontar say whatever he wants to say. It doesn’t change the truth, and getting into a public spat over details that will never be proven one way or another only draws even more attention to the matter. And Gontar hadn’t said anything demeaning. He just wanted to brag.”

“But–”

Tasheene held up a hand for silence. “I told you this is in confidence, so I’ll also say that he didn’t accept that so easily. He was angry. So I recommended that he… use Gontar, as much as Gontar was using him. Surely he’d learned something useful from his time with Gontar, right? Or if not, he could go back until he did.”

Alsendur’s face twisted. “Tasheene, that’s…” _Totally fucked up_ , he wanted to say.

She rolled her eyes. “Please. They were already using each other. And this gave Geth a more productive way to get an even deal of it. He accepted a reputation as someone who puts out, and in turn he got access to knowledge. You know how much he likes being able to dish all the latest gossip. And… well. He’s a Melshimber. Knowledge is our entire purpose, as much as music is yours.”

“So he just… was hooking up with people to get dirt on them?”

“No!” Tasheene looked appalled. “He was hooking up with people because he’s a teenager who wanted to hook up with people. But he wasn’t sleeping with any of them. He just let them say what they wanted. They could tell lies if he was learning the truth.”

“Right. But…” Alsendur finally moved to drink the spiced chocolate, which was still hot but no longer scalding. It shook him awake. “He didn’t even tell his friends. He could’ve rolled his eyes and let _us_ know that the rumors were just rumors.”

“He could’ve,” Tasheene said with a shrug. “But none of you judged him for it, and I _think_ … if I may, that you might have provided an incentive for him to let the rumor stand uncorrected.”

“What does that mean?”

Tasheene laughed, a cheerful sharp laughter that was so much like Geth’s. “Sen. Sweetheart,” she said, patronizingly resting a hand on his shoulder. “It made you _jealous_.”

“It did n–”

She stared at him blankly, and he fell silent. He _had_ acted jealous, even before he’d realized it. _What’s so special about Gontar?_ he’d demanded.

“Oh,” he muttered. “And I just…”

“Threw it all in his face? Yeah.”

Sen covered his face with his hands and wiped them down until his palms pressed together under his chin. He’d been an idiot–but also, Geth had _let_ him be an idiot. “So he sent you to yell at me so I’d feel bad for what I said?”

Tasheene scoffed. “He has no idea I’m here, Sen. As far as he’s concerned, none of this changes that you were an asshole to him. And I can’t say I disagree.”

Alsendur looked away, watching a couple pass by, hand in hand, laughing about something as they carried a picnic basket into the cemetery-park. That _could_ have been him and Geth, enjoying all of their time together after the long winter, but no. He’d gone and messed everything up, and now Tasheene hated him too. “Why are you doing this, then?” he asked.

A sly smile stretched across Tasheene’s lips. “You know all of those songs and operas where the entire conflict is sourced in a miscommunication, or a small bit of truth withheld?”

“Sure,” Sen said. It was a common enough trope.

“I hate those stories.” She leaned casually along the back of the bench and eyed Alsendur. “You’re good for him, you know. He’s been so much more bearable, since you two got together. He’s more responsible. And happier.”

Alsendur looked back down at his drink and felt heat rising in his cheeks. “I’m happier too.”

“And I get that the whole marriage thing freaks you out. Honestly, it should. You’re _really_ young.”

“ _Thank_ you!”

“But you have to understand, when he stared down Mother and made her accept you as a quote-unquote provisional member of the family, it was the most resolute and mature I’ve ever seen him be.”

“He… did _what_?” Alsendur replayed her words. _Provisional member of the family_ didn’t have the same iron lock of _marriage_ , but it was somehow even more appalling, like he was just going to stop being a Majarra and become a Melshimber. Which, really, he probably would be expected to do with any kind of marriage. His stomach turned.

“It means we _trust_ you, Sen. Don’t flip out.”

He nodded, trying his best not to flip out.

“Listen, I’m not my parents. I don’t care if and when you two get engaged and get married. If I had control already, I wouldn’t make Geth marry by age twenty. That’s ridiculous. _I’m_ twenty. But regardless, from my point of view, hearing my little brother who was on track to be a playboy alcoholic now _looking forward_ to eventually getting married is a _great_ thing.

“I... can appreciate that,” he said.

“You better appreciate _him_ ,” she said, her voice sharpening. “He deserves better than flightiness and disrespect.”

Alsendur recoiled a little at the sudden shift from support to chastisement. “Of… of course he does,” he stammered.

She leaned forward, ever-so-slightly, closing the gap that Sen had created in pulling back. “If he fucks things up, that’ll be on him. But if _you_ hurt him, Alsendur Majarra, I will not hesitate to make you regret it for the rest of your life.”

Alsendur’s eyes went wide, and he shook his head. “I wouldn’t–I’d never–I _love_ him, Tasheene.”

Tasheene stood up and suddenly warmed into a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Then we won’t have a problem,” she said, like it had been nothing. “I’m glad we got to have this little chat, Sen.”

He nodded slowly, still a little stunned by the sudden threat.

“And if everything does work out,” she added, “I’ll be more than happy to have you in the family.”

She turned and walked briskly away, signaling to the soldier standing guard, and with that, she was gone.

Alsendur sat on the bench and drank down the rest of his chocolate before gathering their two cups. He didn’t have any use for them, but leaving trash in the City of the Dead was generally looked down upon, and surely there was some poor urchin somewhere who could make use of two pewter cups.

Finally, he stood up and looked down the path back into the North Ward. He’d go back and find Vera and Adrienne in time, but there was a lot to think through of what Tasheene had said. And so he walked and tried to process. Geth trading reputation for information, _using_ people for information… had he done that to Alsendur?

Or not, because somehow, Alsendur was different. He was _provisional family_ or something. Alsendur’s nose wrinkled. But then he came to the spot in front of the Melshimber mausoleum where he and Geth had sat, five years ago, and made a promise to always be friends.

He could almost see the two of them there, faint ghosts of memory: Sen, with his yet-untamed hair and gangly twelve-year-old limbs, and Geth, much shorter and with even fairer curls but the same contagious smile. They’d sat, cross-legged, in front of the tomb, Geth saying:

“I, Geth Melshimber, swear before the souls of my ancestors, to always treat you as a friend, to be at your side through thick and thin. I promise to keep no secrets from you, and to honor your trust. I promise to tell you if you’re being stupid, and to help you if you’re in trouble. I promise that if we turn twenty and neither of us have fallen in love with someone suitable, I will marry you myself. And I promise to forgive you for anything you do, even breaking these promises, as long as you’re sorry and swear to keep this pact forever.”

And then he cut his finger, dripped blood onto the ground, and stuck his finger in his mouth, mumbling, “Now you.” And off they ran, toward the Majarra tomb, to repeat the process.

He hadn’t shied away from that commitment.

Tasheene was right. He could’ve just listened when Geth said that he hadn’t slept with anyone else, and none of this would have happened. Or really, he could’ve just said, with perfect honesty, _Yes! I do want to have sex!_ and avoided the entire awful betrothal conversation altogether. But he hadn’t. Instead he’d pitched a fit when Geth had casually joked about betrothal and he’d made Geth feel awful and _he’d_ ruined their first days back together. 

And here, in the City of the Dead, he knew he had to make things right. If Geth would let him.


	9. Tarsakh 1489

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alsendur and Geth reconcile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: frank but non-explicit discussion and depiction of sex (characters are 17).

LIKE I PROMISED

1 Tarsakh 1489

_Dolce_

A _tap tap tap_ at Alsendur’s door shook him out of his thoughts. 

“Master Alsendur,” a young woman’s voice said, muffled through the door. “Geth Melshimber is downstairs waiting for you. Should I tell him you’re coming down, or...”

“Please,” Alsendur said, and then called out, “Wait, no, send him up.” He stood up, starting to pace.

“Er… Yes, sir.” The servant didn’t move for a second. “Bring him up, is that right, sir?”

“Yes, that’s what I said,” he said impatiently.

“Right away, sir,” she said, and her footsteps pattered down the hallway.

A minute later, the door opened and Geth was standing there, hands in his pockets.

“Hi, Sen.”

Alsendur almost ran up and threw his arms around him, but he held back, crossing his arms and leaning against a built-in bookshelf. His shoulder knocked over a small statuette of Waukeen that his mother had gifted him, but hopefully Geth hadn’t noticed that bit of clumsiness.

“Hi,” he said.

“I got your message.”

Sen nodded. “I’m… I’m sorry I said what I said. About you and… other people.”

“You didn’t know,” said Geth, a little too easily. “It was a fair assumption.”

“No, it wasn’t. And I was a total shit about it.”

It hadn’t even been that many people. Sen could only think of five that Geth had been with with over the course of a couple of years. Geth had bounced around and gone back to some of them a few times, so it had felt like a lot more, but there were only so many nobles of their age anyway, and Geth had only hooked up with a commoner (albeit a very rich one) once. He’d regretted it immediately–publicly, at least.

Geth walked in, as if it were his own room, and took a seat on the small sofa by the window, but he didn’t sprawl across it like normal. Instead, he laced his fingers together and looked down intently at them as he said, “You should know about them. The other people.”

“It doesn’t matter, Geth.” Alsendur had completely forgotten to ask Tasheene if she planned on telling Geth about their visit. He didn’t want to play dumb, but she’d also been very clear about her visit being confidential.

“It _does_.” Geth looked up, brushing his hair away from his eyes. “I never loved any of them. And I never had sex with any of them. I mean, not… _sex_ -sex.”

“You just let them say that they had,” Sen provided.

Geth opened his mouth, surprised, and then he closed it into a tight smile and nodded. “Tasheene talked to you, didn’t she?”

Alsendur slowly shook his head, trapped between the two siblings. “No, but… either you’re lying, or _they_ were lying and you didn’t correct them. I know you wouldn’t lie to _me_ , so...”

“Did she swear you to secrecy or something?”

Sen’s eyes went wide with exasperation. “If she _had_ , I wouldn’t be able to _say that_ , would I?”

Geth laughed. “It’s okay. I don’t mind. And I… I appreciate you trying to honor your promise to her. But it’s me. I don’t count. You just can’t tell people _outside_ the family.”

Because he was somehow _inside_ the family? 

Alsendur nodded jerkily.

“She told you about Gontar, then.”

“Yeah,” Sen admitted. “And, um… why you were okay with their lies. That it was in exchange for knowing the truth.”

Geth nodded, more serious now. “You’re shockingly calm about it. No judgment?”

Alsendur shook his head. Whatever objections he’d had had faded over the course of talking to Tasheene and walking around the cemetery after. “It’s not something _I’d_ do, but… you aren’t me. That’s okay.”

Geth’s eyebrows shot into his curls. “Wow. What the fuck did Tasheene _do_ with the self-righteous Sen I know?”

“Nothing. I just…” Sen shrugged. “If someone’s going to lie about you, they’ve kind of given up the right to your confidence, haven’t they? And honestly, everyone knows you’re a gossip. If they start telling you critical secrets because you have a hand down their pants, that’s kind of on them.”

“As if _you_ don’t turn into an idiot whenever someone with a symmetrical face and sculpted physique so much as makes _eye_ contact.”

Alsendur tried to object, but he couldn’t. “Okay, yeah. But I don’t divulge classified intelligence.”

Geth snorted. “No, you just forget your name.”

Sen laughed. “Is this making you feel better? Making fun of me like this?”

“Yeah, actually,” Geth said with a smirk. “It is.”

“Okay, then. Carry on.”

“No, no. I’m done.” Geth bit back a smile and then said, “Listen. I know how it sounds. But I just… needed a way to keep up with Tasheene. Mother’s always rewarded us for passing on little pieces of information we learn, however inconsequential, and Tasha’s always had an edge. She’s older, so that helps. She’s always been around more important conversations than me. But… this let me keep up. Let me be _useful_ to my family for once.”

Alsendur sat on his bed, facing Geth and taking in that news. Tasheene hadn’t said anything about that part of it. It was like Tasheene and Geth were cells in a spy ring, except the ring was their family. And Alsendur was a _provisional member_. His head swam.

“But I really need you to know,” Geth continued, “that I’ve never done that with you. Or maybe, when I was little, but ever since that day in the City of the Dead when we were twelve, what you’ve said has stayed between us unless you’ve told me it’s okay to share. I don’t want you thinking that what we’re doing is–”

“I don’t,” Sen said, interrupting. “I know you wouldn’t do that to me.”

Geth nodded, a little shakily. “Okay. Good. Because… once I kissed you, I knew that was all over. You aren’t _them_. And there is no more _them_. And I guess the idea of being married someday–as much as you don’t want to talk about it, and we don’t have to again–makes it feel more okay when I have nothing to tell Mother. Because you aren’t just _like_ family, you’ll _be_ family. One day, of course.”

Tasheene had said Geth had stared down their mother–standing up for Alsendur to be trusted, maybe, or to be respected as a person and not just a source. It was all starting to make a lot more sense.

“Geth,” Sen said, in hardly more than a whisper, “what happens if I ever _do_ get the opportunity to be a Harper? If your family expects me to–”

“They’d never know,” Geth said, brightening. “We’d just pass on the _normal_ kind of things, who said what at a party, et cetera, and no one would know that you were off doing secret Harper things.”

“Except you.”

Geth shrugged.

“But you _want_ to be Master of Wisdom someday, don’t you? When your parents move on and Tasheene takes over?” It wasn’t for nothing that the Master of Wisdom was quietly called the _Master of Whispers_.

Geth shrugged again.

“Do you not see the problem here? I’d have to keep things from _you_.”

“No, you don’t. That’s what it means when family tells you something _in confidence_. It means it’s not for sale or for spreading. I’d keep your confidence, just as I would if you told me something personal. And you’d keep mine. Unless you think the Harpers would need to know something… and then you could just ask me! And I’d have all the answers you could need.”

“You’d leak information to the Harpers? For free?”

“Well… we’d figure it out. But maybe. It’s always good to do a little charity work, isn’t it?”

Alsendur laughed.

“Don’t you see, Sen? It’s a perfect arrangement.”

This was all _very_ thought-out. Sen must have made some kind of questioning face, because Geth interjected: “As soon as you started telling me about wanting to be a Harper, I had to figure out how that didn’t ruin our pact. I’ve had a _lot_ of time to think about it.”

Geth had figured everything out. And of course he had, while Sen had just blown through, doing and saying whatever he wanted. Alsendur leaned forward, holding his head in his hands. “I’m really sorry for what I said, Geth.”

“Yeah,” Geth said. “I know. But I forgive you.”

He stood up, came to Sen’s side, and sat next to him on the bed.

“Listen,” Geth said, “When I brought all of this up, I was just trying to say that I don’t think _this_ –you and me–is going anywhere. I know anything can happen, but if I end up losing you, it means everything’s gone to shit anyway, as far I as I see it, and I’m never going to look back from a day like that and say, _Gosh but I wish I’d never slept with him_.”

Sen laughed, lightly, though the idea of losing Geth someday was even worse than the feeling of being committed to marrying him. And maybe that was a sign of something.

“And honestly, I think if that happens and we _didn’t_ ever have sex, I’d regret _that_. Because of everyone out there, _you’re_ the one I want to do that with. And I think we’re ready now–or I am. I mean, maybe not today, but soon.” Geth laced his fingers between Sen’s and nudged his side. “We don’t have to though, if you don’t want, and I won’t be upset if you aren’t there yet.”

Alsendur nodded and dared a smile. “It’s okay. I _do_ want to.”

“You do?”

“Yes! Absolutely, yes,” Alsendur said. “And I don’t care about anyone _else_. Your only competition is my harp, and… that’s _not_ the kind of relationship I have to my instrument.”

“You sure about that?” Geth laughed. “What about Milil, though? You’d totally bang him.”

“I mean...” Alsendur trailed off, smiling at the memory of the strange dream he’d had last summer. “I _did_ ha _–_ ”

“You have not banged a _god_ , Alsendur Majarra!”

“No, no,” Sen assured, laughing. “But I had a dream about him once. And I _wanted_ to.”

“Shut up!” Geth shouted, far more delighted than was warranted. “You never told me about your freaky god sex dreams!”

“It wasn’t a sex dream!” Alsendur shook his head. “It was a regular dream, and Milil was in it. Helping me work out a problem.”

“Helping you work out _something_ , all right.”

Alsendur rolled his eyes. “He was just very forthright. And… okay, yeah, kind of handsy. And I didn’t tell you, because….” He felt heat rising to his cheeks. “Well, he looked like _you_.”

A stupidly large grin spread across Geth’s face. “Wait, wait, wait. Your god appeared to you as _me_?”

“Let’s not–

“You worship and adore me. And I just wanted to _marry_ you! This is _way_ more serious than I bargained for, Alsendur.”

“I do not _worship_ you!” Sen said, shoving Geth onto the bed. “I just was _really_ into you and trying to pray about it, so I had a dream where you and Milil just sort of meshed in my head.”

“Because you think I’m _divine_.”

Alsendur groaned. “This is why I hadn’t told you.” He gestured at Geth’s smug grin. “Because of this.”

“Because it’s _blasphemous_ ,” Geth teased.

“Shut _up_.”

“Never.”

Except then Alsendur kissed him, and Geth did shut up, for a few minutes. It had only been two days, but the time away had felt as long as the winter, and now things finally felt _right_ again. And with the whole fight behind them, Sen’s mind was able to make room for what had actually been the point of all this conversation: sex with his perfect boyfriend. Though, it suddenly occured to Sen, if Geth _hadn’t_ slept with Gontar and the others, that meant they were equally clueless. Geth dragged Alsendur down onto the bed as they kissed, but then he suddenly stopped.

“I’m sorry too, you know,” Geth said. “I’m sorry I freaked you out before with all the marriage stuff.”

“It’s okay,” Sen said. “You just sounded so _sure_ , and… I got scared, I guess. Like, I know you love me, but how do you know you want to spend the rest of your _life_ with someone?”

Geth hummed quietly to himself. “You know how you _know_ , with total certainty, that you want to be a bard?”

Alsendur nodded, but that didn’t seem quite the same at all. He didn’t doubt that someone could be sure they wanted to _get_ married, or be a father, or something like that, but that didn’t mean you knew the details of it. He rolled off of Geth and looked up at the ceiling.

“And… you know how you’ll never get tired of playing music?” Geth asked. “But not just music in general, but how much you love the harp? Or… or your lyre. You bring it everywhere, and it’s sort of… part of who you are now.”

“Yeah.”

“And if Milil showed up in another one of your sexy dreams and asked you if you’d promise to be devoted to music forever, would you feel sure you could say yes?”

Alsendur furrowed his brow, considering it. “I guess so. Forever is a long time, but… yes.”

“Well, that’s how I feel about you.”

Alsendur turned toward Geth, blinking in astonishment. “You don’t mean that.”

“Yes, I do!” Geth said, laughing and sitting up. “I don’t have your ambitions. Other than Waterdeep, _you_ are the thing I’m sure of when I think about my future.”

Alsendur pushed himself to sit facing Geth. He wanted to say _something_ , but there was nothing to say. Of course Geth would be in his future. They were friends before all of this, and they always would be. But that wasn’t the same. And it wasn’t a good response.

“Sen,” Geth said, taking his hands, “I want to be at your side for that day you finally sing a spell into reality, and to throw the quietest, most secret party for two whenever the Harpers finally ask you to join them, and to be the one you think about when when you’re off on adventure and need something to keep you from giving up, and to welcome you back home to safety–not just home, but to _our_ home. And… you’re going to do amazing things, and I want to be a part of the story other bards will sing someday about you. I always thought I would be, that we’d be best friends, and, well, I never _really_ intended to marry anyone else before I turned twenty anyway. And now I just… _also_ am in love with you, so I want that so much more.”

Tears welled up in Alsendur’s eyes despite all his best efforts to keep wild emotions from getting the better of him. Geth’s sudden effusive words overwhelmed him, but so did the idea of this future they had together. It seemed so _real_ when Geth spoke of it. And he _did_ want all of that.

“That all sounds… really perfect,” Alsendur said at last.

Geth brightened into a shining smile. “Really?”

“Yes, absolutely.” Sen braved a smile himself. “I want all of that too.”

“But–”

“I just don’t want it to become something our families _negotiate_ over,” Alsendur said, letting go of Geth’s hands, “or something that hurts other people if anything goes wrong and it all goes to hell. Marriage turns love into politics, and money, and family allegiances, and that’s a lot of pressure.”

“So you don’t want it?”

“So I don’t like _talking_ about it.” Alsendur shrugged lamely and looked down at his blankets. “But you deserve better. I can try to be less… weird. About it.”

“It’s okay. We don’t need to talk about it. Not yet.”

Alsendur looked up with surprise. 

Geth shrugged, and a soft smile spread across his lips. “Maybe we can table it for this year, as long as we can talk about it more seriously once we’re making our debuts–assuming we’re still together. I don’t want to rush you, but I don’t want to wait until the day before my twentieth birthday before we’ve even talked about what marriage looks like.”

“I guess that makes sense.” It bought them a year’s time. And once they were presented to Society, there wouldn’t be any avoiding politics and money and family allegiances anyway. “Thanks for forgiving me,” Sen said, resting his head along Geth’s shoulder.

Geth brushed Sen’s hair behind his back, kissed the top of his head, and said, “I always will. Just like I promised.”

* * *

PERFORMANCE ANXIETY

11-14 Tarsakh 1489

_Allegro ma non troppo_

It was another full week before they actually followed through on their intentions to _take things to the next level_ , as Geth had so mortifyingly described it to Vera one lunch when Adrienne had stepped up to order dessert for the table.

They’d _tried_ before the week had passed, but as much as Alsendur had at first brushed this off as just another type of sex, it no longer felt that way. It was so much more one-sided, and that felt like a hell of a lot of pressure, and somehow the revelation that Geth was less experienced than he’d thought had made him feel _worse_ , not better.

It didn’t help that when Geth invited him over for the first time after their talk, the whole house seemed to be cleared out for Goldenight, the fourth night of a ten-day long festival for Waukeen. Everyone–family, visiting scholars, and most of the help included–had flooded into the Castle and Trades Wards for a night of shopping in honor of the Golden Lady, the goddess of wealth and commerce.

“I thought we’d have more privacy,” Geth explained, though they’d never waited for an emptied house to do anything else. The lack of awkward sneaking around was one of the benefits of meeting here and not at Majarra Villa, which always seemed bustling with siblings and relatives apt to burst into one’s room at the worst possible time.

Even worse, Geth had gone to the trouble of _decorating_ his room, dotting it with bouquets of spring flowers and accents of gold and replacing the usual continual flame spells with flickering candlelight. He could pass it off as some kind of Waukeentide cheer, but it was all incredibly _deliberate_.

Sen hated it. He couldn’t say that, though. He should’ve loved it. It was romantic. It was perfect. But it all screamed _this is a Very Big Deal_. He’d have much preferred things just sort of unfold organically, in the moment, but that ship had clearly sailed.

“You don’t mind missing the holiday?” Sen asked.

Geth shrugged. “I don’t need _sales_ to buy things,” he said. “But if you’re suddenly feeling pious, here–” He crossed to his dresser and returned, smearing his hand across Sen’s face with some kind of lotion. The jar in his hand glimmered in the candlelight.

“I’m covered in gold now, aren’t I?”

“Praise Waukeen!” Geth said through a giant grin and then burst out laughing. “Sorry, you… you look _ridiculous_. Very festive, though.”

Alsendur stepped over to be able to see himself in the mirror and groaned. Bright gold splotches shone on his forehead, left cheek, and nose, looking like he’d had a rough fight and bled gold. Which was a Look, in a way, but not one he was going for. “You couldn’t have even applied it properly, could you?”

“As if there’s only _one_ proper way to wear gold glitter. Here, I’ll fix it if you hate it so much,” he said, dramatically rolling his eyes and gesturing for Sen to sit. He pulled out a brush and leaned forward, blending the glittering lotion and then declaring, “That actually looks good. I love it for you.”

Sen looked back in the mirror. It was heavier than he’d normally wear, but the gold glimmering did blend well onto his dark skin, and Geth hadn’t done a bad job redistributing it along his cheekbones and highlighting his best features. “You don’t think I look like a festhall escort?”

“Hey, there are some _very_ classy festhall escorts out there,” Geth said. “I’d hire you.”

Alsendur laughed and grabbed Geth, pulling him into his lap and into a kiss.

It was good that he _wasn’t_ an escort, though, because their eagerly anticipated night ended abruptly about a half hour later, with Sen apologizing profusely.

“It’s okay,” Geth said.

“I mean, it’s not _really_ okay,” Sen said, falling back on the bed and looking anywhere but at Geth. “We can’t have sex if this happens every time we try. I _literally_ can’t do it.”

“If you’d rather switch, I _can_ –”

“No.” They’d already talked it through, and they’d both wanted it this way. And it had all started so smoothly, until Geth had helped guide Alsendur to enter and Sen hadn’t been hard enough to do anything at all. It had only gotten worse from there, and each further attempt had undermined their efforts even further, until he’d lost any semblance of an erection. “Not for our first time,” Sen said. “That’s not how you wanted to do this, and you’re the one who _wanted_ this so badly, and–”

“Sen, do you not want to have sex? Because even if you said you did before, we don’t–”

“That’s not what I meant!” Sen groaned. “Not at all. That’s _definitely_ not what’s happening. Just that I… want to give you what _you_ want. And it’s also what I want, so–”

“You want to fuck me? Is that what you’re saying?”

“ _Yes_.”

Geth pushed himself into Alsendur’s view and stole a kiss before smiling wide. “That’s what matters, anyway.”

“Is it, though?”

“Well, it’s a _lot_ of what matters. Maybe you’re just nervous. That happens.”

Alsendur covered his face with his arms. “This is the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened in my _entire_ life.”

“Okay, that’s got to be an exaggeration,” Geth said, laying alongside him and pulling his arms away from his face. “I’m the only one who knows, and I don’t care, so it can’t be _that_ embarrassing. Remember that time your dad volunteered you to play at the Gathering of the Harps without any warning and you puked all over the stage? That was definitely worse than this.”

Shockingly, the reminder of another time when he’d balked under pressure and blown an opportunity he’d otherwise kill for wasn’t as helpful as Geth thought. “You do care, though,” Sen said.

“If it’s a _permanent condition_ , sure,” Geth laughed. “In which case, we go to the Temple of Sune and see what they can do for you. But from what I’ve seen of you, that’s not an issue. It’s never been an issue before. This is just a… hurdle. Something new.”

That was true. Maybe he _was_ just nervous. Like at the Gathering of the Harps.

“I think… maybe we just made too big a deal of all of it,” Sen suggested.

“ _Isn’t_ it a big deal, though?” Geth asked. “It’s a big deal to _me_.”

“Well, yes, but…” Alsendur turned to face Geth now and propped himself up on his elbow. “Everything else we’ve done, I knew you’d done before. And I had _thought_ you’d done this before, too, even though that was totally wrong and unfounded and–”

“You don’t need to rehash it,” Geth interrupted.

“Right. I just. What if we don’t know what we’re doing? No offense to Tasheene, but if she’s your only source of information on sex, and mine is… fuck, I don’t know, some _poetry_ , that’s doesn’t really inspire confidence. What if I hurt you?”

“You won’t.”

“I _could_.”

Geth shook his head. “Not you.”

“Yeah, because I _can’t_ ,” Sen muttered.

“Oh, shut up,” Geth said, swatting him in the shoulder. “That’s not why. You pay attention. You constantly ask me how I am when we’re doing anything, especially anything new, and you listen to what I tell you to do. You let me take initiative. You follow my lead. _That’s_ why I trust you with this. You’re not some selfish piece of shit who just fucks whatever you see and makes it all about you.”

“I should hope not,” Alsendur said, disgusted at the notion that anyone would be like that. Pirran Jardeth would’ve been like that. He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, trying to push away _that_ thought, push back the feeling of the weight of Pirran’s body over his, the rhythmic pounding of his fists into Sen’s jaw–

“Honestly,” Geth said, interrupting the advancing memories, “the fact that you’re worried enough about what we’re doing that we’re having this conversation is a _good_ thing,” Geth assured. “That’s what I’m saying.”

“Doesn’t _feel_ very good.”

“Oh, whatever. We can try again tomorrow.”

“But you set up this whole night, and–”

“ _Whatever_ ,” Geth repeated, laughing. “Listen, there are stupid festivals every night this week. I’m not in a rush.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah. I’m sure. What, you think I’m going to just _leave_ you?”

Alsendur shrugged one shoulder. He hadn’t really thought about consequences or fallout past this being completely embarrassing.

Geth grabbed a pillow and threw it at Alsendur’s face, saying, “Then you’re a fucking idiot. I’m never leaving you, Alsendur Majarra. Now let’s do something else. Go shopping. Get your mind off this.”

“I thought you didn’t want to go shopping?” It was pretty difficult not to feel like he’d totally botched the night, even as Geth cheerfully pulled on pants and rustled through his drawer looking for his money.

“I said I didn’t _need_ to go shopping,” Geth said, pointing a finger at Sen. “But it’ll be fun! And who knows, we could always hit a festhall, put in some bets, take in a show, shop _their_ wares a little…”

Alsendur swatted Geth with his shirt as he held it in his hands. “You wouldn’t!”

“No, _obviously_ not. Learn to take a joke, Sen. But maybe we can just ask for some tips!”

“You want to hire an escort to give us _tips_ on how to have sex?”

Geth shrugged. “Why not? Knowledge is the most valuable commodity, and coinlads and escorts are discreet, unlike anyone else we could learn from.”

Alsendur rolled his eyes and pulled his shirt on. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

“I’m a _genius_ , you mean,” Geth said. He picked up the jar of gold-flaked lotion and gestured Alsendur forward. “Come here, you lost all your glow.”

“I wonder why,” Sen said bitterly, but he let Geth reapply the gold along his eyelids, temples, cheekbones, and nose. He opened his eyes to see Geth run his hands through his own already-golden curls, setting them with a glimmering sheen, and then they went out into the city, leaving the embarrassment of the night behind them.

As it turned out, Geth _was_ a genius. They didn’t go to a festhall that night, choosing instead to go down the High Road, hitting each store that looked appealing and spending far too much gold in the name of Waukeen– _as the Golden Lady wills it!_ , but two days later, Geth dragged Alsendur to a festhall in the Castle Ward.

“It has great music, so you’ll love it,” Geth explained. “And also I might have befriended one of the highcoin escorts last night.”

Alsendur opened his mouth to ask for more information, but Geth pressed on:

“Don’t worry, we’re just _friends_. His name’s Ytri. He’s _very_ wise and was giving me advice, and I think you should meet him.”

“ _Friends_.”

“Yes. I’m very charming.”

“You’re very _rich_ , you mean.”

Geth shrugged. “Don’t be jealous. It’s unattractive.”

“Why would I be jealous of you making a _friend_?”

Geth gave him a pointed look. “Sen, talking about money is tacky. Don’t make me do it.”

He’d meant jealous of his family’s wealth, not of attention of festhall coin-lads. 

“Point taken,” Alsendur said, stuffing his hand in his pockets. “But I’m sure an escort who _befriends_ you is just advertising for future services.”

They walked up to the front doors, and a bouncer tipped his hat in recognition before opening the door. Music did, in fact, flood out into the street, and Alsendur felt a little more at ease as the infectious beats moved his fingers to dance along his thighs.

He’d only been to a few festhalls before since turning sixteen, usually for the music or the gambling, but this one was on a whole other level than what he’d seen before. There weren’t just dancers and the occasional escort sidling up to a losing gambler desperate for distraction and a good luck charm. Here, coinlads and coinlasses were _everywhere_ , easily recognizable by their gauzy clothing that left a little _too_ little to the imagination, and that didn’t even account for the even higher-ranking escorts and courtesans who blended in with the nobility in varying degrees of success.

Emerging from the crowd, a tall bronze-skinned escort with hair like fire and a gown of gold floated over to them, holding arms out to Geth.

“Little Lordling!”

Festhalls didn’t follow the rules of the rest of the city, but nowhere was that more apparent than seeing Geth take the arms of a commoner, kiss them on the hand, and say, “Darling Ytri!” He did, at least, still keep to proper form in reaching out to Sen first and saying, “Sen, this is Lord Ytri.”

“ _Lady_ Ytri tonight,” she said.

“Lady Ytri,” Geth repeated, bowing slightly as if she were actually a fellow noble and not a coinlass making the most of the freedom offered by the festhall, “may I present my boyfriend, Alsendur Majarra?”

“Just _boyfriend_?” she asked. “You better tie this one down quick.”

Alsendur raised an eyebrow. “Did he tell you to say that?”

“He did not.” Ytri looked between them. “Oh, no! Have I entered some kind of lover’s quarrel? _Please_ , forget I said anything.”

“No, it’s all right,” Sen said. He held out his hand in greeting. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“ _Acquaintance_ is all the pleasure you’re going to get,” Ytri said. “Just so we’re clear. I went over this with the Melshimber Lordling yesterday.”

“Right. Geth said you two are _friends_.”

Lady Ytri laughed, a delighted delicate laugh, and touched a hand to Geth’s shoulder. “For now,” she said.

Alsendur cast a dark _I told you so_ glare at Geth, who seemed undeterred.

“We’re too _young_ for Ytri,” Geth explained.

“No, that’s not it.” She waved a hand dismissively. “You’re _of age_. If you were common folk, it’d be fine. But I do _not_ mess with little nobles before their first Midsummer Ball, even if they’re _nineteen_. I’ve seen too many colleagues come under fire for ruining a debut, and I am _not_ here for that.”

“Fair,” Sen said.

They eventually found their way to a table, and Ytri patted the booth alongside her. “Sit down,” she said. “Tell me everything and how I can help.”

Sen looked at Geth, who in a strange change of pace nodded for him to speak, and so Sen filled Ytri in. It was awkward, at first, talking about it, but once he started, it was a relief to speak openly about everything. The three of them talked for four hours, and while Ytri tried to wave off any payment– _It’s pro bono, darling_ , she’d said with a wink–Geth had insisted on paying her for the full night. 

As they got up to leave, she took Alsendur’s hand and pulled him back.

“Lord Alsendur,” she said, with more than a hint of concern in her face. “I hope you didn’t take offense before. I know noble marriage is a whole other world, and it certainly isn’t my place to–”

“It’s all right,” he said. “Really.”

Her face relaxed and she leaned back a little in the booth. “I just encounter a lot of highcoin folks, and I see a lot of unhappy couples out there. You two, though… you could be happy. The way he spoke of you when he came in here last night, that’s a gift to find.”

Alsendur looked over to Geth, who had already gotten swept up in a conversation with some noble he’d recognized. 

“Can I give you one more piece of advice?” she asked. “One artist to another.”

He dragged his attention back to the escort and nodded. “Sure.”

“What I do is a performance. What you two are doing… it’s a collaboration, not a performance. Do you understand, little Bardlet?

Alsendur nodded slowly.

“You can’t have performance anxiety if it isn’t a performance,” she said, winking.

“Right.” Alsendur blushed. “Thanks. That’s actually… kind of helpful.”

“Of course it is. Now, you come back anytime. And remember, take it easy and take it slow.”

She’d said early on in the night, too, and it seemed to give them permission that they hadn’t realized they’d needed to not figure everything out all at once. It was a relief, in a way, to have someone so experienced say something like that. And so they’d gone back the next day, armed with more questions, and then debriefed and discussed and taken their time.

When they finally tried again, it wasn’t quite as intimidating or nerve-wracking as before. That wasn’t to say it was smooth sailing, but as Alsendur felt anxiety starting to build, Ytri’s words to him repeated in his head: _It’s a collaboration, not a performance._

So they’d navigated through it, a little stumbling, a little awkward, but working through each awkward stumble together, rearranging themselves and testing rhythm and depth and asking and guiding until they found their way with only some discomfort. And finally, after months of fantasies, their first real fight, a week of anxiety and preparation, an hour of slowly building up until they were ready and then far too long fumbling around with Sen making adjustments following all of Geth’s requests– _too much–no, more–a little harder–yes, like that–wait, no, not like that–_ he finally got to an enthusiastic _yes, exactly that–sweet Sune’s tits, yes!_

And then it was a blur of dizziness and focus and his thighs were burning and wanting to be closer–even closer, if it was possible, which it wasn’t. And maybe when he’d started, he’d been setting out to make Geth happy, but this was for him too, and it wasn’t selfish to enjoy himself, because as he pulled Geth closer, Geth moaned with pleasure, and they were finally in harmony and closer than they’d ever been. It was terrifying and exhilarating and then, in the matter of a few minutes, over.

It might have felt like a let down, so much anticipation for so little payoff. But as Sen lay alongside Geth, looking up at the deep blue of the ceiling, catching his breath while his heartbeat pounded so loudly he could hardly hear, it seemed well worth it. For him, at least.

He turned towards Geth, whose eyes were closed. “Was that–”

“Shh. Later. No words right now.”

“You’re okay?”

“ _Okay_?” Geth opened his eyes and laughed. “I’m great.”

Alsendur smiled, relieved. And it occurred to him then that whatever else had happened before, this was something they’d only shared with each other, more than any secret. And whatever would happen later, this was something they’d never forget.

“And we’re only going to get better,” Geth added. “Practice makes perfect, right?”

“Not now, though, right?”

“Now? Gods, no,” Geth said, closing his eyes again and resting his head to touch Alsendur’s shoulder–the only place they touched now after being so close. “This is all I want right now.”

Alsendur said nothing else. He took Geth’s hand and watched his chest rise and fall as Geth drifted into sleep. If this was only getting better, maybe the future wasn’t so scary after all.


	10. Miurtil (May) 1489

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The lads play cards with Adrienne and Vera––and Vera's bae, Osvaldo Cassalanter, and they discuss the Season, politics, and their plans.

BLUFFS AND BETS

10 Miurtil 1489

_Amibile_

Osvaldo Cassalanter ran a hand through his long flax-yellow hair, sweeping it back as he looked up and smiled. He dropped five silver coins into the middle of the table and then leaned back on the peacock-green sofa, draping one arm around Vera while turning his cards face down. “Your move, cousin,” he said, looking at Adrienne.

She flipped through her cards, biting her lip, and then folded them away. “I’ll match,” she said, putting five silver of her own into the pile.

Geth didn’t even look at his cards. He tossed five silver coins in and then pulled out a gold coin.

Alsendur’s eyebrows knit into a _V_. “I thought we were playing silver only.”

“A dragon’s just ten silver,” Geth argued, rolling his eyes, but he put away the gold piece anyway, honoring the ground rules they’d set. He knew full well he could outbid the rest of them if he wanted, but that wasn’t much of a fun game. “But fine. I’ll match as well. Sen, you get the first play.”

Alsendur plucked his lowest card from his hand and tossed it onto the table alongside the pile of silver as Geth asked, “So, Osvaldo, what’s the latest from Season?”

Vera’s nose wrinkled, but she quietly discarded and looked at Osvaldo.

“Zori’s debut was fine,” he said. “More fun than I expect tonight’s ball will be.” Osvaldo shrugged, but before he could respond more fully, the doors to the parlor flew open, revealing Tasheene, dressed in a sharply tailored but unadorned black outfit that suggested she’d been meeting important people rather than getting ready for a ball.

She put her hands on her hips and surveyed the group of card-players. “Fancy seeing you here, Cassalanter.”

She said the name like it was poison–and for good reason, maybe, if she shared Geth’s suspicions about who had been responsible for her sudden illness over the winter. But there’d been no evidence–just as Geth had said–and no one outside the Melshimber family and Sen himself knew that she’d been gravely ill, much less the unnatural cause.

Osvaldo shrugged at Tasheene’s, keeping his eye on his hand. “Geth said I was welcome.”

“Of course you are,” she said, walking in until she was standing behind Osvaldo and Vera, causing them both to tense with discomfort. “My little brother’s friends are always welcome here, and you’re with your fiancée, who–unlike you–is his age.”

The tension now spread across the table as everyone picked up on her subtle chastisement. It _was_ bad form for someone who had been presented to have any kind of formal arrangement with a noble who hadn’t made their debut, although situations like Osvaldo’s and Vera’s were common enough. 

“We’re not engaged,” Osvaldo clarified. “We’re friends.”

“Not _just_ friends, surely,” Tasheene said.

“You sound _jealous_ , Tasheene,” he said, sneaking a smile and looking up at her. Vera scowled in his direction.

Tasheene laughed. “Of a girl hardly of age getting swept up with the likes of you? Not _remotely_. The only thing I feel towards Vera is pity. She could do _so_ much better than getting engaged to you.”

“We’re not engaged,” he repeated.

“We’re waiting to finalize anything until I’ve made my debut,” Vera said, flatly. “And you _know_ it, Tasheene, like you know everything else. I’m sure you’ll know about any betrothal plans before I do.”

Tasheene smiled, more warmly this time. “You’re right. I probably will.” She then leaned over and touched Osvaldo’s shoulder, and everyone looked as if she’d touched fire–everyone except Osvaldo, who acted like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Funny enough, I was actually on my way to find you, Cassalanter,” she said. “Could I borrow you for a minute?”

Osvaldo looked to Vera, whose face was scrunched into a bewildered expression. “Politics,” he said, like that explained everything.

Vera’s face half-calmed and she shrugged.

“Does that mean you’re folding?” Geth asked, reaching over to scoop Osvaldo’s silver and cards into the center pot.

“If you need the silver that badly,” Osvaldo said, smirking at Geth.

Geth wrinkled his nose. “No, but I love to donate to those less fortunate. Like your parents.”

“Geth!” Vera said, swatting his arm away from the coins.

Osvaldo just laughed and said, “Maybe you should be saving it for your boyfriend, then. I hear making harps isn’t quite the business it once was.”

“Os _valdo_!” Vera preemptively shot a hand across Adrienne’s chest, which was good, as Adrienne had jumped up to throw down with her cousin.

“Better to sell harps than misinformation,” Geth sniped back.

Tasheene cleared her throat and pinned her brother with a sharp look. “That’s enough from _both_ of you,” she said, true to her place as the Eldest In The Room. “The two of us have _actual_ matters of importance to discuss, so if you’ll excuse us…” She wrenched Osvaldo’s arm to pull him away from the group, and they disappeared into the hallway.

“I can’t believe he’d say that about House Majarra,” Vera said, looking at Adrienne and Alsendur as Geth swept Osvaldo’s hand away. “I’m really sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Alsendur sighed. “He only said it because Geth was being an asshole.”

“It’s why you love me,” Geth said with a shrug. 

“I’m sure he wouldn’t say anything like that in front of other people.”

Geth scoffed, but held back whatever comment he was longing to make. Instead, he kicked Adrienne’s foot and said, “Your turn.”

Adrienne looked at her hand, held it close and looked at the cards on the table, and then discarded one.

“I just find it so infuriating that we’re treated like _children_ ,” Vera said. “If we were commoners, we’d all have jobs already.”

“If we were commoners,” Geth volleyed back, “we’d _need_ jobs, and we wouldn’t the able to spend this lovely afternoon playing cards and debating which family produced better artwine this vintage.”

“It’s not a debate,” Adrienne interjected. “The Amcathra one’s better.”

Geth shrugged in concession, though he’d never admit it aloud. 

“I know all that,” Vera said, “but in a year’s time we’ll be fully entitled nobles. It’s not as if some magical wisdom falls on you the minute you’re presented to the Lords of Waterdeep.” She leaned back, craning her neck toward the door where Tasheene and Osvaldo had left. “What do you think they’re talking about, anyway?”

“Politics,” Alsendur echoed. Politics, in Sen’s experience, either meant bickering between guilds’ interests or noble houses outmaneuvering one another. Neither of which interested him. No one in Waterdeep ever said _politics_ and meant _freedom_ _from tyranny_ or _liberating the oppressed_ or the kind of things that actually mattered.

“Yes, but what? They haven’t been civil to one another in _years_ , so it must be big for Tasheene to want _his_ help. ”

“Must be,” Geth echoed. His fingers danced between two cards, and he dropped one into the middle of the table.

Vera looked at his hand and then pointedly up at him. “Geth Melshimber, what do you know?”

Geth shook his head. “Nothing, I’m sure.”

“Ohh, yes you do,” she said. “Tell us.”

“Honestly, I don’t,” he said, his face flat as stone.

“I bet it’s about Lord Neverember,” Vera said, leaning in conspiratorially.

“What makes you say that?” Geth asked, raising an eyebrow. “Has he done something new?”

“Oh please,” Vera said. “What _hasn’t_ he done? Osvaldo’s parents were over for dinner the other night, and I was so worried about politics coming up–you know my parents and his don’t always see eye to eye–”

“Yeah, because your parents aren’t uptight snobs, and they actually care about people,” Alsendur said, possibly betraying his earlier _no interest in politics_ position.

“Uncle Victoro cares about people!” Adrienne shot. “He’s a _huge_ philanthropist.”

Alsendur scoffed. “You just like him because he’s a half-elf like you.”

Adrienne scrunched her face at Sen. “You just dislike him because he said Milil was a weak god.”

“Yeah, because that’s _bullshit_ ,” Sen snapped.

“ _Anyway_ ,” Vera said, glaring at the siblings, “we all had dinner and politics did come up, but then it was totally fine. Because the one thing they all agreed was that Lord Neverember is terrible. No offense, Geth. I know your grandmother is friends with him, but–”

“None taken,” Geth said. “But I doubt my sister and Osvaldo are overcoming their many and sundry differences just to complain to one another about the Open Lord. Sen, play.”

Alsendur looked at his hand and Geth’s last discard, which narrowed down his available options to one. He set down the card and then took a cookie. It was perfectly baked: crispy edges, but buttery soft, and just the right amount of spice.

“So,” Geth said, actively changing the subject, “Osvaldo might’ve demurred, but I hear Zori Ilzimmer’s Coming Out was a smashing success.”

“Unsurprising, with the first debut of the year,” Vera said, playing her next card. “And her family holds so much more weight than anyone else Coming Out this spring.”

“That’s usually how it is, isn’t it?” Adrienne asked. “Tasheene her year, Osvaldo last year, now Zori. And I’ll get overshadowed by _Miri_ Ilzimmer.”

“You never know,” Geth said, smiling slyly. “Maybe Miri will have run into a snag with her caterers and, whoops, she’ll have to postpone!”

Vera swatted at Geth. “You wouldn’t!”

“I didn’t say we should _poison_ her! Just mix up her schedule or something. The only harm would be a little embarrassment.”

“Miri could totally stand to be taken down a notch,” Adrienne agreed.

“Exactly. And we should do what we can to make your debut shine. Though at least you don’t have compete with a friend,” Geth said, letting his eyes fall on Vera.

“It won’t be a _competition_ ,” Vera said. “We’ll make sure to schedule our parties on different days, and…”

“Oho––so you’ll just _let_ me go first and be fine if I have the better party?”

Vera opened her mouth, hesitating.

“Yeah, didn’t think so,” said Geth, snapping a ginger cookie in two. He popped half in his mouth as Vera snatched the other half from his hand.

Adrienne tossed a card into the pile and reached for the sweets, taking one from the silver tray and then twirling it in her fingers. “It’s not like anyone is going to only go to _one_ of your debuts anyway,” she said. “I just wish _I_ could go. But Mother always says, _A face already often seen is a face no one needs to greet_.” She rolled her eyes dramatically at the offending proverb.

“Well, you’re invited to _my_ debut, Adrienne,” Geth said, discarding in turn. “Even if your parents are cruel and don’t let you attend even one measly little party.”

“One? As if she’d go to yours and not _mine_ if she could only go to one?” Alsendur shook his head. “Nice try.”

“The good news is that _if all this_ ,” Vera started, gesturing at herself, Geth, Sen, and the door where Osvaldo had left, “carries on, our Season will be a complete breeze. Establish ourselves in Society without worrying about matchmaking, and have proposals in our pockets by Midsummer’s Night. And then we can _all_ show up to support Adrienne when her year comes around without worrying about ourselves.”

Alsendur picked one of his two remaining cards and tossed it in. Ever since returning from the winter holiday, everyone seemed to assume that he and Geth were discussing marriage. He’d quit correcting anyone, because protesting raised more questions than quietly going along and was too easily seen as an insult to Geth. Geth himself had kept his promise to not bring it up, and neither of their parents talked much about it, and that was all the actually mattered.

Still, the more they talked about it as a group, the more it felt like lying to pretend that he was planning on proposing in a year. The truth was, he intended on waiting until Geth was on the verge of twenty, and only then it was to appease Geth’s parents.

“Did Zori not try to make a move on Osvaldo?” he asked.

“Oh, they danced,” Vera said, clearly beyond any jealousy over it. “But she knows I’ve been seeing him. She’s not very happy about it. She’s sure it was all some kind of ploy to make _her_ look bad. I don’t know how, exactly, but…”

Adrienne sniffed. “Jealousy isn’t a good look on anybody.”

Vera scrunched her nose, plucked a card from her hand, and dropped it on top of Sen’s. 

“Maybe she can marry Pirran Jardeth,” Alsendur said dryly. “Isn’t his party soon?”

“Tomorrow night,” Geth confirmed. “That wouldn’t be a bad match, actually. Though she might try to win over Lander Gauntyl instead. Tasheene says the two of them spent _quite_ a lot of time together at her ball.”

“Eurgh,” Alsendur said, with total disgust. “Can you imagine how insufferable the Gauntyls will be if one of them marries an Ilzimmer? They’re so desperate to try to be better than us.”

“He won’t,” Geth said. “He wants to take to over the family one day, and so does Zori. And they won’t combine Houses, so…” 

“I wouldn’t worry about them, Sen,” said Vera. “Even if it happened, a Gauntyl-Ilzimmer match doesn’t remotely hold up against a Majarra-Melshimber one.”

Geth smiled at Alsendur, who in turn looked down at his final card and smoothed it face-down against his leg. “That’s true,” Sen said quietly.

“And who knows,” Vera said, breaking into a wicked smile. “Adrienne could end up with Dorian–”

“ _Ew_ ,” Adrienne said. “Absolutely not.”

“But we could be _sisters_!” she teased.

“And be stuck having double-date dinners with Gav for the rest of my life? No, thank you.”

Sen looked up to defend Gav’s honor (he was bad, but not _that_ bad) when he noticed Geth’s eyes were still on him, studying him.

“ _What_?”

“Nothing,” Geth said, though the corners of his lips pulled into a smile. “I just love you.”

Had he done anything to warrant that? It didn’t _seem_ like a patronizing kind of _I love you_. “I… love you, too,” Sen said.

“You two are adorable,” Vera said.

“And _insufferable_ ,” Adrienne added, flinging her card at Sen’s face in disgust.

Geth grinned and laced his fingers in Alsendur’s, and then suddenly pulled him in for a kiss. Sen welcomed it for a second, ignoring Adrienne’s disgusted retching sounds, though his eyes flickered open and he saw Geth leaning over and looking at his final card.

“You cheater!” he shouted, pushing Geth away.

Geth cackled as he put a card into the table, and then he waved his final card in front of his face. “You raising the bid, Sen?” he asked.

“Not any _more_!”

“Oh, come on.”

Alsendur stared down Geth. Geth never folded, even when he should, so it made him especially hard to read. And trying to see Sen’s card was a desperate act–but maybe it had just been a cover for the display.

He sighed and tossed in two silver coins. “Fine. Vera?”

Vera looked at her last card, sighed, and tossed it on the table. “I’m out. Adrienne?”

Adrienne smiled and pushed three coins into the center.

Geth laughed. “All right, all right. Three, huh?” He reached into his pocket and took out a handful of coins, dropping each silver in as he counted. “One.” _Plink_. “Two.” _Plink_. “Three.” _Plink._ “And what the hell, two more.” The last two clinked on the pile.

Sen sighed. He had a good card, but he also was now caught in a game of wills between two people who had no idea how or when to back down.

So he tossed in three more silver. And then he pulled out a gold dragon, and dropped it on the pile. A desperate hope to stop some petty one-upmanship between his sister and boyfriend.

“Wow,” Vera said. “I thought we were keeping this low-stakes.”

“It’s only _one_ dragon,” said Adrienne, tossing in a gold coin and silver coin of her own.

“Oh, _now_ gold is fair game, is it?” Geth glared at Alsendur and threw in his own dragon. “On the count of three, shall we? One. Two. Three.”

They each turned over their card, and Adrienne shrieked in glee. “Ha! Losers! Eat it!”

She brushed aside the cards and gathered up the silver and three gold pieces into her coin purse.

“That was pure luck,” Geth said.

“Or _maybe_ I was paying attention to my cards instead of making eyes at a boyfriend like the rest of you.”

“Only because you don’t have one,” Sen retorted.

“Only because I don’t _want_ one,” Adrienne corrected.

“Should we play another round?” Vera asked, already shuffling the cards together and preparing to deal them out.

“To win back my honor?” Geth asked. “Absolutely.”

They played a full second round, with Geth indeed winning back half his losses, before Tasheene and Osvaldo finally stepped back into the room.

“What was all that about?” Vera asked, eyeing Osvaldo. “Discussing Lord Neverember’s unjust tax policies?”

Osvaldo looked to Tasheene, who smirked.

“No,” she said.

“Oh.” Vera deflated a little, clearly disappointed that her show of knowledge had failed. Geth smirked in smug satisfaction. “Then what?”

“You really want to know?” Tasheene asked, leaning in and dropping her voice to a whisper. “We were talking about making an eternal contract with Asmodeus in exchange for power over the city.”

Her face was dead serious, but she had to be joking. Asmodeus was Lord of the Nine Hells, Prince of Deception. Tasheene would never do something like that–or would she?

Vera turned to Osvaldo, who was holding back some kind of delight in his eyes, but then Tasheene stood up and burst into laughter. “Your _faces_!”

“Of course it was about Neverember,” Osvaldo said. “He’s the Open Lord.”

“See?” Vera said, sticking her tongue out at Geth.

Tasheene continued her silent laughter and then wiped her eyes. “Honestly, you think if we _had_ I’d just come out and _say_ something like that? You four need to sharpen up fast before next year.”

Geth glared at his sister throughout her explanation. “That wasn’t a funny joke, Tasha.” His voice was low and tense, brimming with some kind of defensive anger.

“Are you kidding?” She put a hand on her hip and shook her long bangs out of her eyes. “Did you not see Sen’s face?”

“I did. Which is _why_ it wasn’t funny.”

“What face?” Sen asked, looking between them. “I didn’t make a face!”

“You did,” Tasheene said. She demonstrated a look of dismay and disbelief. Geth eyed Sen and nodded. 

“You did,” Geth echoed. “You looked like you’d died a little inside.”

“Okay, but I didn’t _believe_ you,” said Alsendur. “I knew it was a joke. You’re too smart to do something as stupid as make a contract with a god you can’t trust.”

Osvaldo waggled his head. “Well, _actually_ , you could argue he’s _very_ trustworthy. Just not _good_. When I was working with the priests of Lathander–”

Adrienne groaned, and Sen didn’t blame her. All in all, Lathander, god of renewal and birth and the dawn, was one of the better gods out there, but Osvaldo, like Lathander, had a propensity for overstating his importance. After all, Osvaldo had only worked with them for one summer before his debut, when he’d suddenly left the temple and accepted his place learning to run the Cassalanter moneylending empire. Just another young noble with a Lathanderism phase, a last hurrah of rebellion before becoming completely boring and respectable.

Sen felt a little badly for him, though. Because as annoying as Osvaldo’s Lathander stories were, at least you could tell his heart was in it. Osvaldo The Banker was just a role he had to play.

“When I was _working with the priests of Lathander_ ,” Osvaldo repeated, “they talked about how gods like Asmodeus are self-serving and ultimately opposed to life and flourishing on the mortal plane, but still bound by their word. It’s why you can’t just accept obedience and honesty in place of actual good works and compassion. ”

“Because nothing says compassion like high interest loans,” Sen muttered to himself, setting Geth off into laughter that he tried so hard to contain that he snorted instead.

“The point is,” Osvaldo continued, “that you _can_ trust him to follow through on his promise. You just should know exactly what you’re promising, and what you’ve been promised.”

“Still wouldn’t do it,” Alsendur said, with a shrug.

“No,” Geth said, patting Alsendur on the knee, “Sen isn’t fond of commitment.”

Adrienne broke out into loud laughter, Vera sprayed some of her sip of wine into the air at the comment, Tasheene covered a snigger with her fist, and Osvaldo looked askance as Sen shook his head, incredulous at the low blow.

“Are you _seriously_ bringing that up right now?” Sen asked.

Geth laughed lightly, leaning back and reaching an arm around Alsendur. “Oh, it was just a joke, calm down.” 

Alsendur huffed and looked away, but then Geth kissed his cheek, and the offense didn’t seem so bad. 

“I love you,” Geth said. “But you set yourself up it.”

“You sort of _did_ ,” Adrienne noted.

“Take a step back–bringing _what_ up?” Osvaldo asked.

“Nothing,” Geth said. “I’ve promised not to talk about it for another ten months.”

“We’re just holding off on the marriage conversations until our debut,” Sen explained, to the point. “Like you and Vera.”

Vera’s face suddenly brightened. “Oh! You know what that means?”

Alsendur shook his head.

“We could have a _double_ wedding! How amazing would that be?! Or a triple wedding, if we wait another year and find someone for Adrienne. Tasheene, wouldn’t that be delightful?”

Tasheene forced a smile. Vera knew full well that watching your younger brother and all of his younger friends getting married before you was not _delightful_ for any single noble. 

“I think there’s no way my brother would agree to share the spotlight like that,” Tasheene answered, “but it’s cute that you think he would. I also think I have too many things to do before the Guildsmeet Ball, all of which are infinitely more important than this conversation. I’ll see you there, Cassalanter?”

“Of course.”

She leaned over the table once more, snatched a cookie from the tray, and wiggled her fingers in a wave goodbye. And then she turned around and left the room, while all eyes followed her out.

“Actually,” Osvaldo said, patting his hands on his knees, “I should get going too. I have about fifty names to brush up on for tonight. If I mix up one of the names of the Guildmasters, it could ruin us.”

“Let me walk you out,” Vera said, standing up with him. “Guys, I’ll be right back.”

“Take your time,” Geth said, waving them away. “Ciao, Osvaldo.”

Alsendur and Adrienne waved goodbye to their cousin, who stepped out with Vera.

“God, he’s a bore,” Geth groaned, as soon as the door closed. “ _When I was working with the priests of Lathander_ –bleh. I don’t know what Vera sees in him.”

“He’s a little boring,” Adrienne granted, “but he’s good to her. And she’s happy. So we’re happy _for_ her. Aren’t we?”

“And she’ll be family,” Sen noted. “That’ll be good. She’ll make visits with the Cassalanters _way_ more interesting, and we all benefit from that.”

“Way better than _Zori_ would be,” Adrienne added.

“Fine, I’m _enthusiastically_ happy for her,” Geth said, rolling his eyes. “But there’s no way I’m having a joint wedding. Just so we’re clear. My wedding is going to be about _me_ , not about any Cassalanter or Amcathra.”

“About _you_?” Sen asked. “Really?”

Adrienne laughed and then cupped her hands, singing, “He’s _vai-ai-ain_! That’s not a _sur-pri-i-ise_!”

“About me _and my beloved_ , obviously,” Geth clarified. “Whoever that is.”

Sen looked over. “You and me, you mean.”

“If that’s what happens,” he said with a smirk and a shrug.

“Mmkay,” Adrienne said. “Just don’t put me in an ugly dress, and I’ll go along with whatever you two want. And don’t overshadow my Season.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Geth said.

“This is why we let Vera and Oz do whatever they want,” Sen said, “and then Geth and I can hold off until your Season is over. We’ll overshadow Gav’s instead.”

Adrienne snorted with delight, and Geth looked over at Sen, beaming, and reached across to squeeze his hand.

“You mean that?” Geth whispered.

“Yeah, I mean it,” Sen said.

She lifted her glass with the remaining half-serving of inferior Melshimber artwine in the air. “A toast! To whatever weddings any of you fuckers decide to have, and the fine-ass Looks I will wear to them, and most of all, to screwing over my little brother.”

“Cheers!” said Geth.

“Cheers,” Sen chimed in. He lifted his glass to his lips, but as soon as he took a sip, Adrienne swiped his wine out of his hand and drank the rest of the glass as he said, “Hey! That was mine!”

She winked back. “Cheers!”


	11. Kythorn (June) 1489

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geth, Sen, and Adrienne decide to listen in on an important secret meeting among the adults.

THE FALL

25 Kythorn 1489

_ Sotto Voce _

Tasheene and Osvaldo, it turned out, weren’t the only ones talking about Lord Neverember. Every tavern was filled with increasingly tense talk about his leadership and increasingly vicious satires sung by the bards of Waterdeep.

It was terrible and boring and, as far as Alsendur was concerned, ruining all of his favorite places. This must have been what Geth felt like over the winter holiday, subjected to constant political chatter. Except it had moved from the tucked-away rooms of the Melshimbers’ vineyard estate to every room and every street of Waterdeep.

And then it invaded Sen’s home.

Sen had been excited at first to see Andraethra Melshimber arrive with Geth at her side, but it wasn’t a social visit. She met the adults in the parlor–all of them: Grandfather Medver, Great-Aunt Jhess, Aunt Lassail, Father, Mother, Lassail’s son Garred, and Arveene–and Geth was sent to entertain and distract the younger Majarras from the commotion.

He was _good_ at the job, too, talking Adrienne and Gav into a game of cards and regaling them with the funniest stories he knew, playing off of Adrienne’s wild ideas, treating Algavain like an equal. Of course, Sen would’ve preferred they leave Adrienne and Gav to their own devices, but there was something nice about having Geth here, bringing everyone together, blending in so naturally. It was almost like he already was family.

But then Gav had to go and ruin everything. Like he always did.

“What’s the meeting all about, Geth?” Gav asked, in the middle of a game of cards.

“Dagult, I’m sure, like it always is,” Geth said flippantly.

“You mean Lord Neverember?”

Geth rolled his eyes. “Yes. _Lord Neverember of Neverwinter_ ,” he repeated, in a deep and stuffy voice, imitating the plummiest and poshest of accents–as if his wasn’t already three-quarters of the way there. 

“I’m confused,” Gav said. “I thought your family liked him.”

Geth raised an eyebrow. “My grandmother likes him,” he said. “My grandmother isn’t here, is she?”

Sen cleared his throat. “Geth, shouldn’t we… talk about something _else_?” It wasn’t like Geth at all to talk so freely about his own family.

But Geth just shrugged. “It’s fine. We’re all to be allies, anyway.”

“Allies in what?” Gav asked.

“In standing up to Dagult. Lord Neverember.”

Gav and Adrienne exchanged a glance, as Alsendur looked Geth up and down. He was far too careful with his words to not have some intention in revealing this _now_ , to _all_ of them.

“Are the Amcathras in this alliance?” Adrienne asked.

The Amcathras–the one thing Adrienne and Gav had in common.

“Possibly,” Geth said, looking intently at his hand.

“I’m sure they’d join,” Gav said. “I’ve heard them talking to Father about their frustrations.”

“Have you?” Geth asked, holding back the keen curiosity Sen knew he had now. It didn’t take much to nudge fifteen-year-old Algavain into showing off his knowledge and savvy, especially about politics.

“Several times,” Gav confirmed. “They’re both furious about how little of the tax money he’s raised has actually gone into helping the city. Mother, meanwhile, is livid about the sale of titles. She says it’s an affront to Siamorphe. Nobility reflects the favor of the gods. That’s not something you should just _buy_ off of someone else because their business is suffering.”

“Even if it’s an affront to Siamorphe,” Sen argued, “you could say it _honors_ Waukeen. And a lot more people in Waterdeep worship the goddess of trade than the goddess of nobility.” 

By _a lot more people_ , he meant _basically everyone_. Waukeen’s face was everywhere, her name always on the lips of everyone, from nobles to guildmasters to the common street peddlar, and her festivals were a constant source of celebration throughout the year. Siamorphe, on the other hand, was paid lip service by nobles one day a year and when it suited their political arguments.

Gav huffed. “Sen, are you _defending_ those brightcoin sharks who would buy off someone’s very _name_ and _identity_?”

Sen shook his head. “No, I’m just saying, Mother talks more about Waukeen than Siamorphe, so it seems weird to make a religious argument out of it.”

“Whatever the argument,” Gav said, “the policy sure is a strange way to keep the support of the most important people in the city.”

“The people hate him too,” Adrienne jumped in. “The common people.”

Geth and Gav looked at her with surprise.

“How do you know what the _people_ think?” Gav asked, scrunching his nose.

Alsendur chuckled. “Because she sneaks out and plays dice with them.”

“You _do?”_ Gav looked at Adrienne and rolled his eyes. “Of course you do.”

Geth cocked his head. “Are you any good?”

Adrienne shrugged one shoulder. “I’m not _bad_.”

“And they all hate him?” Geth asked.

“Sure,” Adrienne answered. “His tax is totally unfair. It’s only one silver piece a month, but to _some_ people, that’s half a day’s pay, and they need every last nib they earn.”

Geth wrinkled his nose at the thought. “Maybe they should get a job that pays a little better,” he said.

“But they’d still need all their earnings to go toward like, proper food,” Adrienne argued. “They don’t even complain about paying. Just that it’s not fair that they pay the same as us. And even kids have to pay–anyone above ten.”

Alsendur thought through the idea. “It _does_ seem unfair. I mean, I’d pay two shards a month if some pitiful street urchin didn’t have to pay at all.”

Geth tossed a gold coin to Adrienne.

“What the fuck is this?”

He shrugged. “A gift. What’re you going to buy?”

“With one gold piece? Not much.”

“Oh, so you aren’t going to give it to all of your street urchin friends?”

Adrienne’s face flashed through at least four different emotions. “Give it to them _yourself_.”

“No thanks,” Geth said, grinning. “It’s yours. Go on, that’ll cover ten months of tax for your favorite poor dice buddy. I could rustle up two silver to bring it to a full year, if you’d prefer.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“I’m _charitable_ ,” Geth insisted. “I don’t know any sad little street children. You do.”

“Fine.” Adrienne turned her hand face-down on the table and quietly pocketed the gold piece, saying, “But I’m tired of cards.”

“What do you want to do instead?” Sen asked.

Adrienne smiled, with the dangerous twinkle in her eye that usually meant trouble. “Let’s go listen to the family council.”

Geth’s interest piqued, though Gav crossed his arms.

“We weren’t invited, Drie,” Gav said. “You shouldn’t _snoop_.”

“ _They_ shouldn’t leave us out just because we’re two or three years away from adulthood. Geth and Sen will have full political rights _next year_. We deserve to know what’s going on.”

“How would you listen?” Geth asked.

“The crawl space,” Adrienne said, like it was obvious. “It’ll take us to the music lofts.”

Gav dropped his cards and stood up, crossing his arms. “Guys, no. Mother said we were supposed to leave them alone.”

“You don’t have to come!” Adrienne snapped. “But then don’t ask us what we learned.”

“Fine!” Gav said, dropping his arms and scrunching his face in frustration. “I won’t stop you. But if you all get caught, I will have _no_ sympathy.”

“We’ll live,” Adrienne said, turning back to the others. “What do you say?”

“I’m in,” Geth said. “Sen?”

“Yeah, sure. Why not?”

Adrienne flashed a grin and lead the way, signaling the boys to follow her down the hallway and to a door into a dumbwaiter. She opened the door and handed the pulley rope to Alsendur, who let out slack until the lift was just below them, its ceiling level with the hallway floor, and then secured the rope so it would be locked in place until they were safely out. As soon soon as Adrienne got clearance, she stepped across to a crawl space behind the wall.

“Don’t put your weight on the lift,” she instructed. “And watch my signal–some of the boards creak.”

Geth looked warily back at Alsendur, who gave an encouraging nod and held out a hand as he stepped over to where Adrienne knelt. Alsendur crawled in last, noticeably more cramped in the narrow space and low ceiling than the others.

They crept along until Adrienne stopped abruptly, holding her hand across the passage. Her other hand pointed down–another shaft, but without a lift nicely positioned to block off the long way to the cellar. She stepped lightly and gestured for the boys to follow her.

Before Geth went across, he leaned back to Alsendur and whispered, “This is fucking insane,” in his ear. He reached out to Adrienne, who took his hand while Sen spotted him from the other side; and then Sen stepped over, bracing himself against the narrowing walls. A few feet later, Adrienne stopped them again, pointing to a floorboard and stepping carefully over it without touching it.

Just past the creaking board, they started to hear voices from down below, though too muffled to understand. Geth stopped to listen more closely, but Adrienne waved him forward, and they moved again until they entered a small square, five foot wide and tall, with an iron grate along the top half of one wall. Adrienne stayed low and took a seat at the far edge of the room and pointed at places for the boys to sit.

Sen recognized the small room they were in–from below, it appeared as nothing more than a grate in the wall, but if someone were to cast light inside, they would find room for a quartet of musicians and their instruments and a curved ceiling designed for amplifying the sound so that it could echo into the parlor below.

Adrienne held out both hands, palms flat, facing down. _Stay down_ , she mouthed, just barely discernible now that sunlight sprinkled in through the iron grates. She pressed her ear to the wall and then pointed to Sen and then to her eye.

His job, as usual in these missions of hers–when she brought him along–was to look down and report what he saw–which was good, because he had trouble staying completely under the cover of the grate anyway.

The family was all there, spread around the parlor in a rough semi-circle with Andraethra Melshimber in perfect view. She sat on a tall green velvet chair, perfectly poised, hands folded across her knees. Across from her was Medver, who was in another high-backed chair but mostly obscured from Sen’s sight. Even more obscured were Aunt Lassail and her son Garred. 

His father Avaldon, his mother Noreeve, and sister Arveene sat together on a couch between the two, across from the grate. Noreeve’s expression was unreadable, but Avaldon seemed completely invested in whatever Andraethra had been saying, and Arveene kept looking between their guest, her parents, and Aunt Lassail, who sat across from her. Great-Aunt Jhess, last of all, was not sitting at all, but pacing along the back of the room as Medver spoke.

“You’ve put us on a very short turnaround, Andraethra,” Medver was saying. “You do understand that.”

“I do. We thought we had more time,” she explained, “but this opportunity has… accelerated matters.”

“Why didn’t you tell us about this earlier?” Lassail asked. “You’re in regular contact with Noreeve–”

Her voice cut off, and Sen’s mother’s posture tightened. Noreeve said nothing, but she seemed to look straight at Lassail.

“You _did_ know,” Lassail said.

“Oh, don’t act high and mighty, Lassail,” Great-Aunt Jhess said, stopping her pacing. “Noreeve keeps her promises. She clearly promised Lady Melshimber her silence.”

Alsendur looked over at Geth, whose ear was still pressed against the wood. Did their mothers have the same kind of understanding as they did, then? How did a promise like that even work with marriage to someone else?

“Did she promise her our _support_ too?” Lassail snapped.

“I did not,” Noreeve said, finally speaking for herself. “Lady Melshimber is here speaking to _all_ of us, and if House Majarra wasn’t brought in earlier, I’m _sure_ it wasn’t meant as an insult.”

Andraethra reached over and touched Noreeve’s hand, which was gripping the end of the couch with whitening knuckles. “It’s all right, Noreeve. It’s a fair question.” She folded her hands across her lap again, turning toward Lassail. “It’s true that we’ve reached out individually to a few trusted friends, to test the waters, to see if we were being rash. But this is the first family I have asked to speak to in full, and I _know_ you know this is not the way I prefer to work.”

Lassail muttered something too quietly to hear.

“To some degree, yes,” Andraethra responded, to whatever the criticism had been. She then looked across the room and continued, “We have deeply appreciated the friendship of House Majarra, but this isn’t the Game of Games. We aren’t trying to throw the best ball or win attention in the press. This is the future of Waterdeep, plain and simple. We know you have ties to other Houses and… organizations… which may be making their own appeals to you–”

Geth jabbed Sen’s side. The Harpers, she meant.

“—and it is critical at this point to know where you stand. And given Noreeve’s ties to her House of origin, it was critical for me to know where _she_ stands, to know if her brother would be an impediment to moving forward. I assume Victoro has come to see you as well?”

“Oh, he has,” Lord Majarra said darkly. “With reminders of loyalty and warnings of the chaos that this could bring. But we don’t take orders from him anymore than you. This family will do the _right_ thing, regardless of who asks it.”

Andraethra lit up, smiling and letting her shoulders fall back in relief. “Of course! That’s all I’m asking. If we all work together, we can save our city. The stakes are nothing short of that.”

Medver steepled his fingers and looked around the room. “Are there any other questions for Lady Melshimber?”

“I have one.” Aunt Lassail cleared her throat. “We know for _certain_ that Silverhand is willing to do this?”

Alsendur’s eyes went wide and he looked at the others. There were several women who went by the name Silverhand, and they were all wildly powerful and hundreds of years old. Not the sort of people who tended to meddle in city politics… unless something very big was at stake.

“We are,” Andraethra said. “She approached us–which is why the time is _now_. I’m speaking with Masked Lords, but they won’t act without enough noble Houses to have their backs. Can we count on House Majarra?”

No one dared speak before Medver, who cleared his throat and pushed himself up out of his chair. “I think we’ll need to deliberate, if you’ll excuse us for a moment,” he said, and everyone else began to stand as well.

“Of course,” she said. “Shall I step outside?”

“No, no, wait here, Lady Melshimber. You’re our guest. We’ll gather in my office.” The family started filing out when he turned back and said, “Noreeve?”

“Hm?”

“Maybe one of the children can play something for Lady Melshimber while she waits.”

Andraethra smiled and nodded. “That sounds lovely, thank you.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Sen whispered, ducking down. _One of the children_ was undoubtedly him. He usually volunteered for this sort of thing, since the opportunity to play music to guests was only matched by the opportunity to avoid small talk with them. But if she sent someone to find him, he wouldn’t be very findable.

“Gav can play,” Adrienne whispered, seeing his panicked face. He wasn’t as good or dedicated, but he _was_ capable.

“If he doesn’t _rat_ on us,” Sen whispered back.

Adrienne raised her eyebrows and shrugged. There was little they could do about that at this point.

“Actually,” Noreeve said, “why don’t you go on without me, Lord Majarra? I can keep our guest company myself.”

“You do have a right to be in this conversation, Noreeve,” he said. “Don’t mind Lassail.”

Alsendur peeked back through the rail to see his mother smile and shake her head. “Thank you, Lord Medver. But I trust the rest of you to make the right choice without my input. I’ll be with you completely, whatever you decide.”

“If you’re sure,” he said, knowing it wasn’t worth trying to argue with Noreeve once she’d made her mind up about something. He turned and walked out of the room, leaving Noreeve and Andraethra alone–or mostly alone.

“They’re all _gone_ ,” Sen whispered to Adrienne and Geth.

Geth looked to Adrienne. “Can we get to where they went?”

Below, Andraethra’s eyes seemed to flicker right past Sen, and he ducked again, covering Geth’s mouth and holding a finger to his own lips while fixing Adrienne with a pointed look.

“We are _alone_ , Noreeve?” Andraethra asked.

Alsendur’s mother looked surprised at the question. She turned, looking around the room, and said, “We don’t hide eyes and ears around the house, Andi. You’re free to speak.”

“I was just wondering,” Andraetha said, her voice dropping so low that Alsendur could barely hear her, “if you’ve reconsidered the other invitation.”

“My answer’s the same.”

Andraethra’s voice was now too low to hear at all, so Sen sought out a chink in the wood panels where he could look through and see her lips form around the words, “Your brother–”

“Makes his own choices quite independently of mine.”

“Of course. But the …n…sh…n and b…n…f…” And there she said another two words, far less decipherable.

“I’m aware,” Noreeve said, a little less quietly and a little less kindly. “I don’t need any of its benefits–” _Benefits!_ “–and I’m wary of the costs. It doesn’t strike me as a sound investment.”

Andraethra chuckled, and more audibly said, “ _You_ should’ve been the banker.”

“Yes, I should’ve,” she said, not without bitterness, though she then added, “But I’m happy where I am.”

“I know that, and I love it.”

“I have a good husband,” Noreeve said, “a secure household, an allowance from my father’s trust, three perfect children–”

“Well fuck you _too_ ,” Adrienne whispered, although Noreeve continued saying, “—and a wonderful niece in my care. What can they give me that I actually want or need?”

“Nothing. Sometimes it’s better to not want anything.” Andraethra’s voice dropped low again, but her mouth formed the words, “I just would hate to see you left out. People will notice.”

Noreeve looked away, revealing a smile. “Is selfless concern for others now one of your watchwords?”

Andraethra laughed, genuinely amused this time. “No,” she muttered. “But I take care of our own. And you _are_ my own.” She reached out and touched Noreeve’s arm as she smiled, and Geth kicked Alsendur’s foot. Alsendur turned away from the scene and to his fellow eavesdroppers.

_What the fuck_? Geth mouthed, nodding his head toward the wall. 

Alsendur mimicked Andraethra’s gesture and whispered her words: “ _You are my own_.”

Adrienne bit back laughter as Geth looked horrified as he mouthed, _They’re not_ … and tapped his fingers together.

Alsendur waved a dismissive hand, hushing the silent conversion, although Adrienne succumbed to her laughter, silent as it was.

“I appreciate it,” Noreeve said, grabbing their attention again. “But I think I may have been mistaken.”

“About?”

Her footsteps crossed the room, and the door swung open down below. “Lady Jhess!” she called.

The friends looked between each other, and Adrienne started swearing silently.

“They know,” she mouthed, pointing down to their parents, to her head, and then circling her finger around at the group and pointing down, “we’re here.”

Alsendur shook his head. They only had a second to respond, and there was no way they could all shuffle out through the crawl space in time. If they continued in Adrienne’s direction, they’d have to contend with another shaft below, and he’d be left behind, and if they returned the direction they’d come, Adrienne would be left behind.

Jhess’s light footsteps approached, and Adrienne disappeared into the dark while Geth grabbed Sen’s hand and pulled him close into a startlingly passionate kiss. Alsendur promptly forgot everything they’d been listening to, instead thinking only about how Geth’s hand was definitely pressing between his legs and how their _mothers_ and _Great-Aunt Jhess_ were _right there_ and it was all incredibly uncomfortable but he also didn’t want to stop and–

“No _intruders_ , exactly,” Jhess said. “Only your very adolescent sons.”

Geth dialed back his advances and suddenly Alsendur understood.

Jhess would have scanned the room not using her eyes, but detecting thoughts. And all of Alsendur’s had been incredibly uninteresting. He pulled away from the kiss, throwing himself against the wall in relief.

And then the wall–which wasn’t a wall at all, but a door–swung open into the room, and Alsendur fell. 

“Sen!” Geth shouted, leaning out the loft to clutch hold of Alsendur’s hand as tightly as he could. There was meant to be a ladder to reach up to the hidden loft two stories above, but of course such an unsightly thing wasn’t kept anywhere all that convenient.

Alsendur reached his other hand to grip the floor of the loft, but Geth’s hand was beginning to sweat, and neither of them were particularly strong.

“Sen, drop and pull him down,” Jhess said.

“Are you _mad_?” Geth shouted down below. “I’ll _die_!”

“She’s right,” Sen said, as his knuckles turned white. “Trust her.”

Geth shook his head. “I do _not_.”

“Trust _me_ , then,” he said. There was no more time. He was losing his grip. 

He hoisted himself up as much as he could to allow his hand to swing to Geth’s other arm, and as Geth lost footing, he shouted, “ _Now_!”

As Geth screamed in his ear, Jhess sang out a word and Alsendur felt themselves turn upright and then hit the ground, on their feet, unharmed.

Alsendur looked back at Jhess. “ _Thank_ you,” he said.

“I should’ve just let you fools take the damage as a lesson and healed you after, but then we might’ve gotten blood on the upholstery,” Jhess said, crossing her arms and looking down at them. “What in heaven’s name were you doing up there?”

“Eavesdropping, obviously,” Andraethra said, wearing a mix of fury and pride in her green eyes.

“No!” Geth protested. “We were just–”

“Don’t bother, Geth,” Alsendur said. “Neither of us would ever choose to be in a dusty wooden box like that, and they all know it.”

“Thank you for your honesty,” his mother said, though she didn’t look very _thankful_. “But it’s not getting you out of trouble this time. We did not raise you two to act like _spies_.”

Alsendur caught Jhess holding back a snicker and had to look away and press his lips tight to avert laughter himself, especially as Geth said, “I _mean_ …”

“This isn’t a _joke,_ Geth Melshimber,” Andraethra snapped. “If we’d wanted you to be in the room, I would have invited you.”

“We didn’t hear anything _interesting_ ,” Geth said, like that was any kind of defense.

Andraethra raised an eyebrow.

“Seriously! Everyone was gone by the time we even _got_ there,” he lied, “and it was just you and Missus Majarra talking about joining the Cassalanters or whatever–”

“Ex- _cuse_ me?!” Andraethra said, all pride gone, all fury now. 

“I already know all about it,” Geth said, jutting his chin out, taking the pride on for himself. “The Order of Siamorphe.”

Andraethra’s eyes narrowed for a half-second, almost imperceptibly, and then it was if nothing had happened. “How?”

Geth bit his lip. “Tasha told me, because she doesn’t treat me like a child.”

“What’s this about Siamorphe?” Jhess asked, closing the door behind her.

“She’s the goddess of nobility,” Geth provided, as if that were the question asked.

“Yes, little Melshimber, I’ve been a noble _quite_ a bit longer than you and attended my fair share of dull divine pageants. Lady Melshimber, care to explain about this Order?”

Andraethra’s face transformed into calm stone as she turned toward Sen’s mentor and said, “It’s nothing of interest to you, I’m sure.”

Great-Aunt Jhess smiled with narrowed eyes. “And I’m sure it’s nothing to _hide_. Noreeve, care to enlighten me?”

“Just what it sounds like,” Noreeve said. “A self-indulgent project of Victoro’s, that’s all.”

“A secret society for the highborn? To do what? Congratulate themselves on their status?” Jhess asked.

“Essentially,” Andraethra said, her voice silk over sharpened steel. “As I said, not of interest to you.”

“No,” Jhess said. “I can think of few things more mind-numbingly pointless and stupid than that.”

“May we… go back to my room now?” Alsendur asked.

“No, you may not,” Noreeve snapped. “You are each going to sit in the hallway– _separately–_ and wait for us for decide what to do with you.”

“This is _so_ unfair,” Alsendur shot back, though he too late saw Jhess shaking her head _no_ in warning. “Ugh!”

He stormed out of the room and into the hall, waiting for Geth to join him, but he ran into his father instead.

“Sen? Were you playing something for Lady Melshimber?”

“No,” he confessed. It wasn’t worth trying to hide. “Geth and I were caught listening in.”

His father’s face shook with surprise. “Listening in? You could’ve just asked to attend the meeting.”

“What?”

“Of course. I would’ve allowed it. You’ll be presented and entitled in less than a year. Your grandfather might not have let you speak, but you could’ve _attended_.”

“But I didn’t _want_ to,” Sen objected. He hadn’t wanted any of this.

His father furrowed his brow. “Then why–” Realization dawned over his face. “This was Adrienne’s doing.”

“No, no,” Alsendur said, scrambling for some kind of cover for her. “It was my idea. You’re right, we just wanted to attend, and–”

“If you want to take the fall for her that badly, fine,” Avaldon said. “I won’t tell your mother. But then you have to take the fall.”

Alsendur groaned and dropped onto the bench in the hallway, and finally Geth slunk up next to him and sat.

“I know your mother said _separately_ , but–”

“Whatever,” Sen said, watching the rest of his family file back into the parlor and a servant shut the door behind them. “What’s she going to do? Ground me for the next ten months?”

“You should let _me_ take the blame here.”

“No way.”

“My mother doesn’t care about the snooping,” Geth said. “She’s just mad at me for getting caught.”

Alsendur gave him a quizzical look. “She looked a _lot_ angrier than that, Geth.”

“Oh, well, yeah, because I blabbed about a secret Siamorphe club or whatever to your great-aunt who is like… _very_ _possibly_ a Harper.”

“Yeah, what the _fuck_ got into you?”

Geth shrugged, but his face was tight with resentment. “I’m tired of her keeping me in the dark. She should know I know more than she thinks. It’s like your father said. We’re _so_ close to presented entitled nobles, but sometimes she thinks of me like I’m still too small to dress myself. It’s not going to get any better when she takes over our House completely next month.”

“Your grandmother…?”

“Goes down with dear ol’ Dagult,” Geth whispered, out of the servant’s earshot. “She’ll retire. Go to the country, watch over the wine trade, have a lovely time far away from city politics.”

“So your mother’s not doing all of this just for the _good of the city_?”

Geth laughed, but then covered his mouth, remembering they were meant to be silently awaiting punishments. He shook his head and leaned back against the silver-and-green walls, looking up at the mirrored ceiling with its pattern of crowns. Alsendur rested his head against him and sighed.

It was only a few more seconds before the doors opened and their mothers stepped out.

Before either of them could speak, Geth jumped up and blurted out, “You should know it was my idea entirely. Sen didn’t even want to do it, but he knew the passage to get there, and I talked him into it.”

Noreeve and Andraethra looked at each other, and Noreeve tried to hide a smile.

“I’m very persuasive,” Geth added.

“You had a very clear task,” Andraethra said to Geth. “Which was to _not_ bother me in my meeting.”

Geth nodded. “I know.”

“And I don’t care what you know or you don’t think you know, you do _not_ spout off in front of people _outside_ of the family. Even a Majarra.”

He nodded again. “Yes, ma’am.”

Alsendur shifted uncomfortably. For all her talk of being tight-lipped, she was airing all of this in his house, right in front of him and his mother.

As if she could read his mind, Andraethra now turned to him and said, “Alsendur.” He looked up, catching her piercing gaze–all the danger of Tasheene’s without the mischievous spark or warm concern behind it. “You need to understand this just as much as him. Do you?”

“Yes, of course. Family knowledge stays inside the family.”

She smiled tightly and nodded with approval. “Good. The two of us have talked, and you’re both grounded for the next two weeks. That includes visits with each other.”

“ _What_?” Geth said. “That’s _insane_!”

“When did you _talk_?” Alsendur asked.

“I said it was all my fault! Sen shouldn’t be punished at all!”

“Alsendur knew this was wrong,” Noreeve said, eyeing Sen while responding to Geth. “He needs to be able to stand his own ground, no matter how _persuasive_ you may me. That will only be more and more important as time goes on.”

“Oh, _I_ get it,” Geth said, though his face contorted into something vindictive rather than some mature acceptance. “It’s like how you refused to join the–”

“Geth, stop!” Sen shouted over him, grabbing his arm and dragging him down to the bench. He jerked him to get his attention and gave him a pleading look. They were already in enough trouble. “Just _stop_.”

“ _Three_ weeks,” Andraethra said, calm and cold, and  Sen’s heart sank.Two weeks was bad enough–longer than they’d ever been apart outside of winter, and they’d miss Founder’s Day.Three weeks was too much.Geth would miss theater week, and they’d had plans to see three of the shows...

Geth struggled to rise back up, clearly wanting to argue more, but Sen blocked him and whispered in his ear. “Geth, _please_. Let it go. Take the fall. So we can see each other again.”

Geth’s nostrils flared and his eye twitched, and then he relaxed, his face turning into stone, just as his mother’s had before.

“Fine,” he said. 

“You can take a minute to walk to the door,” Andraethra said. So generous. “We’ll talk on the way home.”

They did take what was probably the full minute, walking slowly, hand in hand, not saying anything until they came to the door. It was all so unfair and so sudden, to have Geth ripped away like this because they’d done one stupid thing.

“I guess this is goodbye, then, Sen.”

“Don’t make it any worse,” Alsendur pled. “Don’t fight with her anymore. Keep your head down and come back to me in three weeks. Promise?”

“Promise.”

Alsendur wrapped his hand around Geth’s neck and pulled him into a kiss. Kissing in front of their parents wasn’t exactly ideal, but if it was going to be three weeks apart, they could damn well deal with it.

“Hey,” Geth whispered, “When I see you again, it’ll be a whole new Waterdeep.”

“As long as you’re still in it, I don’t care.” Sen laughed and pressed a kiss on his head. “Goodbye, Geth.”


	12. Flamerule (July) 1489

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geth manages the fallout.

4 Flamerule 1489

THE MELSHIMBER CHOICE

_ pietoso ma non troppo _

Geth did not take well to being cut off from all social engagements. The carriage ride home had started his sentence off perfectly–in silence. It was all well and good, because Geth was still furious at the indignity of being grounded for three weeks. If his mother tried to say anything, he’d probably talk himself into a fourth week of punishment, and then Sen would be angry too.

Nine days later, his mother threw open his door and wrestled a bottle of wine from his hands.

“This is pathetic,” she said. She turned to the servant and said, “See to it that he doesn’t have access to the cellars.”

“What, it’s not bad enough I have to sit around doing nothing, I have do sit around doing nothing _sober_?”

“Yes!” Her face contorted. “ _Look_ at yourself!”

“ _You_ look at yourself!” he shouted back. It wasn’t exactly his finest moment.

To his credit, he hadn’t gone immediately to wine. He’d initially locked himself up in his rooms to write letters and practice lute and generally fume, but he’d needed _conversation_. He’d _tried_ to keep the help company as they went about their tasks–because even if they were generally simple-minded, they were at least familiar and courteous–but after three days, the head butler had very rudely told Geth he was being a _distraction_. He’d then turned to the scholars at the Old Library, pretending to take an interest in their research, but they’d been so boring that he’d been driven to go pull a selection of his favorite vintages and make the most of his punishment.

It _was_ pathetic.

Andraethra scoffed and handed the wine off to the servant. “Clean yourself up and get proper rest. You’re coming with me tomorrow, and you need to be presentable.”

“Coming where?”

“To see Dathanscza Meiril. She’s a half-elf who trades in stained glass and tapestries.”

As if he hadn’t been punished enough.

He met her as requested, but as the carriage took them through the city, he kept an icy silence, even though he was dying to know what the meeting was about. It certainly wasn’t about interior decorating.

Eventually, his mother broke the silence. “I cannot begin to describe how utterly disappointed in you I am,” she said.

Geth’s jaw tightened. Disappointment implied that she had any kind of positive expectations to start with, and he’d rarely seen any sign of that.

“You could’ve let us in the meeting,” he grumbled. “Then none of this would’ve happened.”

“I could have. But I didn’t.”

Geth glared at her. That wasn’t the foolproof argument she saw it as.

“You need to accept that you are not the head of this family. You very likely never will be– _don’t_ roll your eyes–and that means that there will always be some conversations you are not privy to, some meetings you do not get to attend.”

“How am I supposed to know what to listen for and what to tell you if I’m kept in the dark?” he asked.

“You aren’t _kept in the dark_. You knew _everything_ we were discussing in there, and if you’d had any degree of patience, I would’ve happily told you what the Majarras’ response had been.”

“As if you tell me _everything_.”

“No. I don’t. Because you are a _child_.”

“I’m not!” Geth burst out. “I’m _seventeen_. I’ll be eighteen in a month, so I _should_ be able to have a debut, except that that’s just not how we do things, which is _stupid_ anyway. Just because I’m not out in Society yet doesn’t mean–”

“It very much does,” she said. “To me, it does.”

“Ugh!” he groaned, holding back any more bitter words.

After a minute he folded his arms and said, “Is that why it’s okay for you and Grandmother to eavesdrop on me but not the other way around, then?”

“I think you know,” she said, just loudly enough to be heard over the rattling wheels over cobblestone, “that that was hardly the main offense you committed.”

He knew. He looked out the carriage window.

“Look at me.”

He gritted his teeth and slowly looked back, head down, glaring up darkly.

“I’m honestly astonished, Geth. I thought you knew better. We don’t have _many_ rules, but the ones we have are critical to keep.”

Geth nodded.

“I know you think of the Majarras as family,” she said, a little more warmly, “but… you have to understand that they aren’t. They never will be.”

He looked away again. 

“Alsendur, maybe. Hopefully.”

His eyes drifted back to his mother. “Hopefully?”

“Your father and I think it’s a very good idea. Not necessarily who we would have picked, as we already have their support and they are, frankly, on the decline, but… yes. We _do_ care about your happiness as well.”

“You do?”

A rare flash of vulnerability pinched her face for a moment, and then it was gone. “You’re our son. Of course we do. I’m not punishing you to be _cruel_.”

Geth huffed. If she was so supportive of him being with Sen and she wasn’t being cruel, she could’ve chosen another punishment.

“But,” she said, “I’ve granted Alsendur as an exception with the expectation that he will be part of _our_ family, not you theirs. You cannot trust every Majarra, even if they are good to you.”

“You trust Noreeve.”

“That’s different. That’s an individual situation. She’s my friend, and has been since we were children, long before she was a Majarra. That trust doesn’t extend to her husband or Lord Medver, and especially not to _Lady Jhess_.”

Geth looked down. He’d crossed a line. There wasn’t much defense of it. He’d just been so _angry_. And he still was.

“Did Oghma curse me with an idiot for a son?”

He slowly looked back up, half-defiance and half-shame. “I’m not an idiot.”

“Not usually, no. Were you charmed or momentarily lost your mind because you’d fallen out of that loft? Certainly you hadn’t forgotten that she’s a _bard_ given that she’d just cast two spells on you. So what _exactly_ possessed you to air a secret in front of a possible _Harper_?”

“We don’t know if she’s a Harper,” he said, like a total idiot.

“Obviously not,” his mother snapped. “They don’t parade around with their pins glowing for the world to see, do they? And there’s nothing wrong with the Harpers, necessarily, except that we’re in the business of using knowledge to build power–for ourselves and for our clients. The Harpers use knowledge to _limit_ power. There’s a distinct conflict of interest.”

Geth swallowed and looked away. Tasheene and Sen had both said as much. He didn’t want to think like that. Like he could be pulling Sen into something that would prevent him from living out his dream.

“Regardless,” his mother continued in her lecture, “Bards, wizards, warlocks–they’re all hungry for knowledge, and we don’t give that away for free. What do you think pays for all your entertainment and nice things?”

“Interest on our vast holdings?” he quipped.

His mother cast a dark look his way. “You need to take this seriously, Geth.”

“I _do_ take it seriously!” he protested. “I messed up _once_. I’m _sorry_ , okay?”

“It’s not _okay_ ,” she said. “I beg you to think through your actions. _If_ Lady Jhess shares information about the Order of Siamorphe, it could damage our reputation. It could get back to the Cassalanters, who trust us to keep that secret. Has it maybe occurred to you that if we’re involved in _anything_ with them, it’s to keep our enemies close? If they cut us out because they know _you_ were blabbing around town–”

“It wasn’t _around town_ ,” Geth grumbled, but he caught himself from arguing further.

“Close enough where the Harpers could be involved!”

“Right,” he muttered.

“The Cassalanters always pay what they owe, and they always collect what they are owed. And how do you think the Cassalanters will repay us if they learn we’ve betrayed their trust? You think they’ll just let that slide?”

Geth swallowed. They still had no proof that the Cassalanters had been the ones to poison and curse Tasheene, but if that had been out of envy alone, what _would_ they do in retaliation to a slight? He felt sick.

Worse than that, tears brimmed hot in his eyes, but he blinked them back. He wouldn’t give his mother the satisfaction of making him cry, like he was a child.

“I said I’m _sorry_!” he snapped. “Really. I understand everything wrong with what happened, and I feel like shit about it, okay? There’s nothing I can do except say I’m sorry.”

She pursed her lips. “For what, _exactly_?”

“For sharing a secret without thinking. For endangering our family. It won’t happen again,” he added. “I swear on the Eye of Oghma, it won’t.”

His mother took a deep breath. “Have you apologized to your sister?”

Geth looked down at his hands, turning his signet ring around his finger and letting the small emerald gemstone eye catch the light. He had not apologized to his sister. Tasheene didn’t take apologies well. She didn’t graciously forgive. She used the opportunity to berate you and make sure you understood every single part of your mistake, and woe to the person who tried to offer her what she called a _bullshit excuse_ by way of explanation. He’d avoided Tasheene all week for that very reason. He’d _really_ fucked up, and he was lucky she hadn’t burst into his room to tear him apart for it. Maybe his mother had been merciful and not told her what he’d done.

“You need to,” his mother said at least. “Since apparently _she_ entrusted you with this information.” Her tone made it very clear what she thought of Tasheene’s choice.

“Because _you_ wouldn’t.”

“And you confirmed that I was right not to!”

Geth fell silent and looked down once more.

“Geth, darling, I trust you with a _very_ good deal, and the older and more mature you get, the more you can show me you can handle it. I know you and I have… our differences,” she said, picking her words carefully. “But I never thought you would betray your sister’s confidence. You owe her an apology. If you care about our family–”

“Of course I do!” he interrupted.

“Then you’ll understand how much our mutual trust and confidentiality is so completely _vital_ to our existence. We cannot function as a family if we must keep secrets from one another, if we cannot trust one another to know what information is for public knowledge, what is for the Vault, and what is for the family alone.”

“I do understand,” he said. “I really do. I was just…”

He trailed off but his mother kept her piercing eyes on him, waiting for the rest of his explanation.

“I was showing off. I wanted you to stop treating me like a child.”

“If you want me to treat you like an adult, then act like one. You can start by apologizing to Tasheene,” she said. “And _never_ make me have this conversation again.”

The carriage rolled to a stop, and Lady Melshimber reached out to touch Geth’s hand. “I’m bringing you inside for this meeting. Do you understand?”

Geth nodded. He didn’t dare ask what it was about, though it seemed like he really _should_ be told before they walked in.

They exited the carriage, and she instructed their driver to go around the block so as to not be seen before they walked up to the door. She knocked twice and stepped back, and the half-elf opened the door. Herself.

That figured. Stained-glass seller, and all. Not everyone had a full staff of servants–though you’d think a doorman, at the very least...

“Lady Melshimber,” the half-elf said, nodding her head in greeting. “Come in.”

They stepped in to a workshop of glass and textiles that seemed to be rather quiet–a day off, maybe–and Andraethra gestured toward Geth. “Miss Meiril, this is my son, Geth. He’ll be presented next year, but he knows everything I know and can be trusted with perfect confidence.”

Perfect confidence.

Geth smiled as if he weren’t being put through some mind game right now. Perfect confidence. What the _fuck_? Clearly he’d been brought along as some kind of test.

“I… see,” their host said, clearly not reassured in the least.

“Geth, this is Dathanscza Meiril,” his mother said. No explanation.

The problem with this test was that other than keeping his mouth shut, Geth had no idea how to pass it. And the introduction presented the most puzzling piece of all. This woman was clearly a commoner, nothing more than an artist, but his mother had introduced him to _her_ and not the other way around.

He did his best, holding out his hand and bowing slightly, as if she were a lady of the nobility. It grated against everything he’d been taught, but this had to be right. His mother had showed deference, and he would follow suit. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance,” he said.

She showed an cautious smile as she offered her hand, which he lightly kissed.

“He knows _everything_?” she asked, looking over at Andreathra.

His mother nodded curtly and clasped her hands together. “Miss Meiril, I don’t need to keep you long. I simply wanted you to have my update in person.”

“Which is?”

“Geth, dear, why don’t you pick out a tapestry for us?”

“Those pieces are just examples–they’re usually custom made,” Dathanscza tried to explain, but Andraethra waved a dismissive hand. She wasn’t interested in tapestries. She just wanted to leave the shop with a parcel, so he obediently walked over and half-inspected the finished pieces hanging in the workshop while listening. Each one emitted a pleasant fragrance to match the image–grass and sweet breeze alongside a pastoral scene, rotting leaves and burning firewood with an autumnal forest, freshly fallen rain and spring flowers with a garden.

“You have the support of a quorum of noble houses,” his mother said. “We’re ready when you are.”

“Thank the gods,” Dathanscza sighed with relief. “You’re sure?”

“Positive. It isn’t unanimous. The Cassalanters are still dragging their feet, and their allies are holding off, but they won’t stand in the way if the Lords speak with one voice. They’re simply resistant to the necessary change. Trust the devil you know, et cetera.”

“Right. Well… that’s certainly not _ideal_ …”

Geth tried his best to continue looking at tapestries of pastoral scenes and hiding his confusion and surprise. _She_ had their support. If the _Lords_ spoke with one voice.

This timid half-elf had to be one of the Masked Lords of Waterdeep. Granted, the whole point of them being _masked_ was to avoid situations like these–nobles whispering in their ears, buying their support, organizing coups against the Open Lord… And yet, here they were.

“Geth,” his mother suddenly said, “have you selected something?”

He hadn’t expected to have needed to choose so quickly, but he pointed to the tapestry of the garden of flowers. “This one, I think. It reminds me of a poem Sen read me once. About children in a garden…”

“A poem? By Tsaer Ellarion?” Dathanscza asked.

“Yes! Exactly.”

She smiled, taking down the tapestry and beginning to fold it carefully. “I didn’t realize your son was a lover of poetry, Lady Melshimber.”

“I have to confess,” Geth said, “I’m a lover _of_ a lover of poetry. But I’ve developed an appreciation for it. I struggle a little with the Elvish, in parts, but there’s really no replacing the original, is there? Unless it’s this way. Making it into something we can see and smell. Bringing it alive. Brilliant, really.”

“ _Thank_ you,” she said, and then recited a line in Elvish.

Miraculously, it was one Geth recognized, thanks to Sen’s efforts to put it to song. Translated, it meant something like, _Our past is our future–there is the laughter in the leaves._

He closed his eyes, trying to remember the exact words that Sen had sang. It was easier to remember songs than spoken poetry, of course, even in another language, but he didn’t want to recite the wrong line. Confident he’d remembered right, he sang the words as Sen had, time and again. The Elvish words came perfectly, so much more beautiful than the meaning in Common:

> “ _The long-awaited wind blows at our backs._
> 
> _Now is the time, here, now, and always._
> 
> _Go, said the bird, hoist your sails and fly._
> 
> _Now is the time, here, now, and always._ ”

Dathanscza seemed caught off guard at first, but then she nodded slowly as he sang, drawing into a smile. 

“Well said… and well sung.” She turned back to his mother now. “Thank you, Lady Melshimber. I’m confident we’ll be ready to act by the week’s end. I– _we_ –owe you our gratitude.”

“Never mind that,” Andraethra said. “I simply want what is best for Waterdeep, same as you.”

“Yes, of course.” She handed over the boxed tapestry to Geth. “And I look forward to seeing you again.”

Geth took the parcel and flashed a grin. “Likewise.”

They stepped back out onto the stoop and spotted the carriage waiting around the corner.

“Are you sending that to Alsendur, then?” his mother asked as they walked, gesturing toward the boxed tapestry.

“I was actually going to keep it,” he said. “To remind me of him, since apparently I’m grounded forever.”

She didn’t respond, but just gestured to the carriage door as the driver opened it for them. Geth held back the thirty questions swirling in his mind. How did she find out that that woman was a Masked Lord? Whose idea was the move against Neverember? Who else was in on this? Did she know _all_ the Masked Lords’ identities? Did she know he would say something about poetry, or was that all dumb luck? Did this mean he was forgiven?

The one he asked, though, was this: “I know I messed up, before. Is there… _any_ other way I can make this up to you? I can’t stay cooped up for two more weeks. I _can’t_.”

“You aren’t _cooped up_. I just brought you to an incredibly important meeting!”

“I know!” Geth took a deep breath. “I know, and I appreciate it.”

“And you did well today, with Dathanscza,” she said. “You do understand what she is?”

“I think so. She’s–”

“No need to say it. If you understand, then you understand no one can know. And no one can know _that_ we know. The City of Waterdeep depends on the illusion of that secrecy, and the best thing we can do is help maintain that illusion.”

He nodded. She was talking about a lot more than the Masked Lords. It was about House Melshimber, about the Order of Siamorphe, about everything. Secrets. Trust. Family.

“I’ll give you a choice,” she said. “I can drop you off at home, you can spend one more week there, rather than two, and then be free to do as you like.”

“Or?”

“Or you can finish out the full three weeks, but you can accompany me or your father or Tasheene on our business in that time.”

“And you’ll actually tell me what’s going on?”

She tilted her head. “As necessary, yes. I don’t want you feeling like you are being kept in the dark. But there _are_ some things you’ll have to wait on. “

“Right.” 

The choice was a trap. That was plain as day. He wanted the freedom, hands down, and she knew it. But if he chose an extra week of parties and lunches with friends and and trips to the theater and visits with Sen over being brought in on important family business in the middle of Season, in the middle of one of the most historic moments in Waterdeep’s recent years, he’d just confirm her judgment of him as a shallow, irresponsible child.

“At _least_ let me see Sen?” he asked. “No other friends or parties or anything. Just Sen?”

“I don’t think so. It’s good for him to see that there are consequences for breaking our family’s trust. Better neither of you forget this.”

“But I’ll explain everything we talked about. He’ll understand, and he won’t forget. Please!”

She shrugged, cold and unaffected. “He’s in the same position as you for the next week, so I don’t see what it would matter.”

“The _last_ week matters!” Geth bent his eyebrows and widened his eyes. “You can convince his mother, I _know_.”

She answered his pleas with an arch look.”

“I _saw_ you two,” he added.

“Then you also saw that Noreeve does as she wishes.”

“Yeah, but she’s punishing Sen because she thinks he just went along with me, and she wants him to have a backbone or something.”

“She _thinks_?”

Geth drummed his fingers along his thigh. Sen had chosen to take the fall for Adrienne. But that was unfair. She hadn’t _asked_ him to. “It was Adrienne’s idea, not mine,” he confessed. “But Sen didn’t want her to get in trouble, and I already was…”

She smiled now, just slightly. “Perhaps if you had taken a leaf out of his book and covered for _your_ sister, you wouldn’t be in this situation at all.”

Geth opened his mouth to protest, but she held her hand up.

“I’m not sure Noreeve will see his actions in the positive light that you and I do. Telling her would just be causing trouble, with very little likelihood of any benefit. The choices stand as they are.” She drew a fan and beat it in the humid air. “Assuming Tasheene forgives you.”

* * *

He’d expected Tasheene to shout. Or throw him out. Or get revenge, somehow. He hadn’t expected Tasheene to _laugh_ when he explained what he’d said about the Order of Siamorphe. Not just laugh––to crack up, doubled over in her chair.

“Are you… not… angry?”

“Oh, I am. I’m _furious_ ,” she said, gathering herself a little.

“What’s so funny, then?”

She shook her head, sat back upright, and wiped her eyes. “Nothing. I mean, _something_ , but clearly nothing I can trust you with.”

There it was. The bite.

“Tash, come on, I _said_ I was sorry. I know I fucked up.”

“Yeah. You really, _really_ did.”

“So now you’re never going to trust me again? That’s it?”

“I didn’t say that. But you’re going to have to earn that trust back.” Tasheene’s eyes narrowed, and she crossed her arms. “Seriously, the fact that you said my _name_ is just… fucking unbelievable, Geth.”

“I know.”

“It would be understandable if you were _ten_ , but you’re an adult! You’ll be presented next year!”

“I _know_.”

“Well,” she said, tossing back her hair, “the month-long grounding makes sense now. Mother refused to explain––I guess she wanted me to hear it from you.”

Geth nodded. “Yeah. She laid into me, though. I’m… very aware of all the ways in which I’m a disappointment to the family, so you really don’t have to elaborate any further.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Tasheene sighed, pity overtaking her anger despite herself. “You fucked up, _big_ , but you aren’t a _disappointment_.”

“I mean, I am. Her first words were _I cannot begin to describe how utterly disappointed in you I am._ It was lovely. Some great mother-son bonding, really.”

“But she took you with her.” Tasheene’s brow furrowed. “To… buy tapestries.”

“I _know_ what the visit really was, Tasha. She had me come inside. To the meeting.”

Tasheene’s eyebrow raised, and she bit back some other reaction. “She _did_?”

Geth shrugged.

“Mother does love her mind games, doesn’t she?”

“Yeah, no kidding. Speaking of…” 

He explained the choice that she’d laid out. 

“It’s not a fair choice, and she knows it,” he said, after he’d gone through the options. “If I choose one week, it’ll be held over my head, and she’ll treat me like a child for another year. But two more weeks without Sen, without friends… and for what benefit? So I can be ferried around and stand in the back quietly like a valet?”

“Have a seat,” Tasheene said, gesturing to a chair nearby. As he sat, she moved from her desk to a sofa across from Geth, and leaned forward, lacing her hands together. “I know you don’t want to hear it, but you _have_ to choose the second option.”

Geth started to groan, but Tasheene held her hand up–just as their mother always did–and said, “Wait. Listen.”

He waited.

“You have a deficit of trust right now. With me. With Mother. You need to rectify that.”

He rolled his eyes. She was right, but he hated it.

“It sounds like a lose-lose choice, but she’s giving you an easy way out of this hole you’ve dug for yourself. Take it. Don’t be a petulant brat and reject it, or she _won’t_ respect you, and she’ll be right not to. Not because it’s choosing friends over family, but because it’s _stupid_.”

Geth looked down at his hands and tried to pick at his cuticles, though there was nothing to pick at. The curse of being well-groomed. “Sen’s going to kill me,” he mumbled. “If I _choose_ an extra week away from him, just to rub elbows with Masked Lords and sit with Father in the Old Library or whatever.”

Tasheene shook her head. “I know he can be touchy, but he’s not a fool. You can explain it. It wasn’t really a choice. And who knows, maybe I’ll _really_ need your help paying a visit to Garred Majarra next week.”

Geth smiled. “Yeah?”

“No promises. You ratted me out, Geth, so… don’t expect too much from me. But I feel bad for Sen–it’s not _his_ fault you suddenly turned into a dumbass. Unless it was?”

“No, not his fault.”

“Okay. So I’ll see what I can do. Just… keep yourself in line. You don’t want to make yourself Mother’s enemy, or you _will_ end up running the vineyards, exiled far from Waterdeep. _Best_ case scenario. You think Alsendur wants that for you?”

“No,” he muttered. “But this whole thing… she acts like it’s a privilege to be her pawn. I don’t _want_ to be someone’s pawn.”

“I know, but… I’ve seen Osvaldo walk that path. Fighting with his parents all the time, having his role in the family held over his head. It’s an exhausting balancing act he has to maintain, staying in their good graces enough to keep his position and privileges while standing up to them and paving his own way. And it takes a certain… _something_ you don’t have to keep that up. Not courage, exactly, but…” She bit her lip and looked to the corner of her vision, as if searching for the word.

“Moral fiber? Tenacity? Dedication?”

Tasheene laughed. “Your words, but sure.”

“So that’s your advice: an extra week with family who think I’m a disappointment, instead of the person who loves me for who I am.”

Tasheene scoffed. “The advice is unlocking access to the Vault of our family’s collective knowledge instead of spending ten days on the same old socialite bullshit you do every other week of your life. You’re a _Melshimber_ , Geth. Act like it.”

She was right. For now, at least.

Maybe Sen’s mother hadn’t just chosen the Majarra name out of some alliance with Andreathra Melshimber or out of dislike for Victoro’s wife. Maybe she’d chosen the Majarras because they were good people who cared about each other more than outmaneuvering their rivals. Cassalanter, Melshimber, Amcathra. Masked Lords, Open Lords. It was all a bullshit game, ultimately.

And yet, it was a game he didn’t intend to ignore. He would make the right choice. Not just to impress his mother and Tasheene. He _was_ a Melshimber, and he couldn’t stand there and accept being kept out of conversations for another year, give up his family’s respect for… what? A few days’ reprieve?

Someday, he’d have a bigger choice to make, just as Noreeve Cassalanter had. But for now, until he _could_ propose, until he _could_ marry Sen, he was a Melshimber and only that. And he’d make the Melshimber choice. Secrets. Trust. Family.

Hopefully Sen would forgive him.


	13. Flamerule (July) 1489, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geth breaks his prison; Osvaldo breaks hearts.

15 Flamerule 1489

FREEDOM

_Abilmente_

Tasheene, as it turned out, was far too busy to schedule a meeting with Garred Majarra simply as a cover for Geth to see Sen again, but on the first day that Alsendur’s grounding was over–and his should have been as well–she’d summoned Geth to accompany her.

“Where to?” Geth asked, hopping into the carriage.

“I’m meeting a guildmaster in the North Ward,” she said. “Honestly, I’d prefer privacy, so I could’ve left you at home, but we’re meeting on Hassantyr’s Street…”

Geth’s eyes lit up. Majarra Villa sat between Hassantyr’s Street and Sulmor Street. “You mean–”

“Do you have the hat I gave you?”

“Oh, you mean _this_ thing?” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a floppy blue velvet hat that she’d cryptically given him that morning, saying, _Take this. Pray about it._

He’d thought she was absolutely out of her mind until he’d eventually pulled out the hat, walked over to the chapel in the corner of the estate, and said a prayer to Oghma for guidance understanding what the fuck Tasheene was on about. Nothing had happened, not right away, but he was curious, so he’d inspected the ugly thing inside and out, listened for some sound, tried to discern some faint magical glow. And eventually, the answer had come to him.

“Yes,” Tasheene said. “It’s–”

“Hideous,” he interrupted.

“Enchanted.”

“Yeah, I got that. You know, you could’ve told me it was a magical item. I didn’t need to _pray_.”

“Prayer is good for you,” Tasheene said.

Geth laughed. “Oh, are you some kind of priestess now?”

“No,” she said, perfectly straight-faced, and his laughter faded. “Gods are useful allies. I’d like my future Master of Wisdom to have a good rapport with the Lord of Knowledge.”

“Hm.” A smile danced across his lips. “So you’ve decided to stop trying to relegate me to the wine trade?”

“We’ll see.”

He rolled his eyes and turned the blue cap over in his hands. “Master of Wisdom _and_ a Hat of Disguise? Does this mean I’m forgiven?”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” she said. “The hat is attuned to you for now, but it does _not_ belong to you. I’m just following through on my promise to help you see Sen. No more.”

* * *

Alsendur adjusted his collar as he looked in the mirror. Finally, he was free.

Unfortunately, Geth was not.

He picked up the last letter he’d received from Geth, several days ago, and ran his fingers over it as he read it once more:

_Dearest Sen,_

_I hope you are doing well. I’m sure you are, actually. You thrive on your own, and I know you say that you miss me, and I’m sure it is true, but I have no doubt that your music and racy dreams of Milil are filling the gaping hole left in my absence. Don’t get too used to me not being there, okay?_

_I want to apologize for three things. First, for getting us into this mess. There are so many things I could’ve said or not said that would’ve prevented all of this. It’s entirely my fault. Secondly, for the poor quality of my recent letters. Imprisonment–yes, even in Melshimber Villa–eats away at my spirits and I’m afraid it reflects in my writing. I’m a little better today, because I was permitted a brief jaunt outside my prison, though not any degree of freedom. I was merely accompanying my mother on an errand. It was dreadful, but being in the city revitalized me enough to write again._

_The third, I wish I were in person to explain to you. You see, my mother offered to let me be free at the end of this week. I had to decline. I know you are feeling furious reading those words. Betrayed, even. But please, keep reading. In exchange for staying imprisoned, I am treated as an apprentice and given a measure of respect. Had I declined, it would have spelled misery for both of us. I can explain more in person, so until then, please trust me._

_If somehow I get the chance, I will be at your side without any delay. If not, I will see you at the end of next week when my sentence shall be served._

_It cannot come soon enough. I miss the world–and you most of all–terribly._

_Yours,_

_Geth_

Alsendur _had_ been furious, at first, but then he’d gone to practice for a bit and cleared his head and reread the letter. Geth wouldn’t have chosen an extra week alone without a good reason–after all, it wasn’t just a week away from Alsendur, but a week away from _any_ friends.

Another note had arrived just that morning, delivered downstairs by a Melshimber servant, but it was hardy a letter. Just a cryptic scrawl:

_Sen,_

_Freedom is mine! If you see Trinian, give him a kiss for me._

_Yours, G_

It made no sense. Trinian Nesher was a decent sort of person, and Sen had always gotten along with them when they were thrown together at some family function or holiday celebration, but they weren’t all that close. Not _give him a kiss_ close. And Geth was even less so. Trinian, as a general rule, hated all the trappings of nobility that Geth reveled in. And why would Geth not explain? Had Trinian secured his freedom? Broken him out of Melshimber Villa? But why?

Hardly an hour had passed since he received the letter that someone knocked on his door.

“Yes?” he called.

The door swung open, but no servant asked or reported anything, so Alsendur turned to see–Gav, standing there, leaning against the doorway.

“What do you want?”

“Nesher’s here to see you. Were you expecting him?”

Alsendur furrowed his brow and looked down at Geth’s odd note. “Sort of,” he said, pushing himself up and crossing to the door. “Did he say what he wanted?”

Gav scrunched his nose. “No. I figured you’d arranged something–it’s your first day free and a friend drops by… Makes sense.”

“Right.” Clearly Geth had told Trinian about Sen’s own punishment and freedom––and maybe sent a message along of some kind. Something Geth wouldn’t want to write down but might trust Trinian to be discreet about. “Have someone send him up here?”

Gav raised an eyebrow. “Your room is a mess. You’re really going to bring a guest in here?”

“Gav, just do it. I just need to talk with him in private.”

O…kay, I guess.”

He turned slowly, giving Sen a lingering look of doubt, and then vanished.

Alsendur looked back at his room. It _was_ a mess. Of course Gav had to go and be _right_. 

He groaned and crossed over to his bed in order to drag the blankets up in some approximation of a made bed, and then gathered the various articles of clothing that he’d tried on and discarded that morning and threw them on the far side of the bed, where they wouldn’t be seen by anyone near the door. That would be good enough for now, until a maid could come in and clean the room up properly again.

Alsendur was kicking a stray shoe behind the bed when Trinian finally showed up, his slender profile appearing in the doorway. Dark curls fell around his face under a black cap in the style of troubadours and bards–not that Trinian was a bard. He waltzed in comfortably, flashed a smile, and waved. “Well met, Majarra.”

“Well met,” Sen echoed, walking over to greet his guest. “What’s this about?”

“No _nice of you to drop by_ or anything?”

Sen winced. “Sorry, of course. I just… wasn’t expecting you. But come in, come in.”

“I’m just kidding. Melshimber said you’d have something for me?”

Alsendur glanced back at his desk, where Geth’s note lay. Was it some kind of signal?

Trinian broke into a grin, a little lopsided, and tossed his head back so his dark curls fell away from his face. “Well, Majarra? Gonna leave me hanging?”

Alsendur laughed and took Trinian by the hands. “Geth sends his best,” he said, and pressed a polite kiss onto his cheek. 

As their cheeks touched, Trinian pulled Sen in closer and whispered, “It’s me.”

Sen pulled back and looked Trinian over more carefully. And under scrutiny, the image didn’t quite hold up–the edges blurred with a faint glimmer of something false.

Magic.

“Geth?” he asked.

Not-Trinian grinned and leaned back, reaching for the door and pushing it closed. He then turned, removed his hat with a flourish, and suddenly he wasn’t Trinian anymore. Black curls became golden-blonde, his skin darkened a shade, his nose and chin sharpened into Tethyrian features.

“How–”

He waved the hat in the air before tossing it on Sen’s bed. “Thank Tasha,” he explained, wrapping his arms around Alsendur. “She gave it to–”

Alsendur’s lips caught Geth’s mouth, cutting short the rest of the explanation. It had been two weeks–twenty days–since they’d been able to see one another, and that had been nineteen days too long. Sen pushed Geth against the wall, unable to get close enough to him, and Geth’s hand caught in his hair, and–

His door clattered open as a voice shouted, “Sen, did you hear? The–”

By the time Alsendur was able to look at the door, Gav had already cut himself off and spun around, facing the hallway, arms over his head.

“Why are you _making out_ with _Trinian Nesher_?” he half-shouted, still turned away. “Does Geth know?”

Alsendur cleared his throat, and Gav slowly turned back toward them. Geth had ducked behind Sen for cover, but now he poked his head out and waved.

“What in the nine hells?” Gav swore, shutting the door. “Did you use a _spell_ to get in here?”

“None of your business,” Alsendur said, as Geth answered, “A hat, but I’ll take it as a compliment that you think I can cast.”

Gav ignored both of their answers and asked, “Aren’t you still grounded?”

“Well, yeah, hence the disguise.” Geth walked over, picked the hat up, and twirled it in his fingers. 

Algavain’s eyes darted around, from Geth to the hat, back to Geth, to Sen, back to the hat. “Won’t you get in a _lot_ of trouble if your parents know you snuck out–and used a _magical item_ to _trick_ us? To trick my mother, I assume, since she’s the one who would tell yours.”

“I won’t get in trouble, because no one will find out,” Geth said, tinting his voice with just the slightest edge, a sharpening of the _t_ ’s and a haughty lift of his chin that for some reason Sen found very, _very_ attractive. “ _You_ wouldn’t tell anyone.”

Gav’s eyes flickered between Geth and Alsendur, calculating the risks and benefits to staying quiet or speaking up. “Why not?”

“Because we’re not _hurting_ anyone,” Sen snapped, completely fed up with his brother’s continued interruption of his visit. “And you shouldn’t even be in here!”

Gav seemed unimpressed.

“Because,” Geth started, walking over and draping an easy arm around Gav’s shoulder. “If you keep quiet about _this_ , I won’t tell anyone about what happened between you and Miri.”

Algavain was the fairest of the Majarra siblings, but now he blanched even paler. “How do you–”

“Stupid question,” Geth said. The Melshimbers knew everything.

“Got it,” he said, shaking Geth’s arm off. “Fine. I’ll leave you and Sen to it, _Trinian_.”

“What did you want to say, anyway?” Geth asked, just before Algavain reached the door.

Gav turned around, his face scrunched in confusion.

“You came in,” Geth reminded him, “asking if we’d heard something. What did you hear?”

“Oh, that.” Gav brightened back up, remembering his urgent news. “A herald just came through–the Masked Lords have forced Lord Neverember out.”

Alsendur’s eyebrows raised a twitch as he looked to Geth, who nodded.

“Sorry,” Gav started, “you knew about this? I mean, of course _you_ did,” he said, gesturing at Geth. “But _Sen_?”

Sen shrugged. “What do you think Lady Melshimber was here about?”

Gav nodded slowly. “So we helped? That means we…”

“We’re all traitors,” Geth said, smirking. “Except now we’re all _heroes_ who supported our city’s valiant leaders in standing up to the tyrant Neverember, blah blah blah. Good riddance to him, and long live the new Open Lord.”

“Have they voted for a new one?”

Geth waved a hand. “They will soon.”

“Who?” Getting no answer from Geth, Gav turned to Alsendur and made a pleading face.

“Lady Laerel Silverhand,” Sen said.

“Silverhand?! Like the… the old Lady Blackstaff. _That_ Laerel Silverhand.”

“Are there others?”

Gav shook his head, too surprised to respond. Fair enough–Alsendur had been just as shocked when he’d first heard. Lady Laerel was a staple of stories from growing up, of heroes and villains and magic and history. Not someone that you expected to come in and take over city government.

“You’d’ve known all this if you’d come with us to listen,” Alsendur noted.

“Pff,” Gav huffed. “And then I’d’ve been stuck at home for two weeks like you. No thanks.”

Sen shrugged.

“Oh, and speaking of which, now that you’re free, are you coming to Amcathra Villa tonight with me and Drie? Old Morano’s baking his strawberry tarts.”

Alsendur looked to Geth–not that he needed permission, but it seemed rude to go when Geth couldn’t. It wouldn’t be the same without him. It might not even be that fun, all in all.

Geth shook his head and waved. “By all means. It’s your first night of freedom, don’t stay at home on my account.”

“I’ll think about it,” Sen said. “Now go–and shut the door, will you?”

Gav rolled his eyes, but left without protest.

Sen followed him to the door, shut it, and locked it behind him. 

“Do _you_ know what happened between him and Miri?” Geth asked.

Alsendur shook his head. He didn’t particularly care, in fact. He just wanted to take Geth back in his embrace, feel his arms around Geth’s waist, and lose himself in his kiss. But Geth’s eyes were twinkling with the need to share some kind of secret, so he asked, “No, what?” 

A wicked smile stretched across Geth’s face. He gestured for Alsendur to come closer, and then he whispered, “I have no idea. But apparently _something_ …”

Alsendur let out a huff of incredulous laughter and shook his head. Maybe he should’ve been upset at Geth using one of his Melshimber tricks against his own brother, but somehow he only felt… pride? All that came to him when he opened his mouth to respond was, “Gods, I missed you.”

“So you aren’t angry?”

Alsendur furrowed his brow. “About Gav?”

“No, idiot. About me declining my mother’s offer.”

“Oh.” Alsendur shifted uncomfortably. He’d been without Geth too long to be angry, even if this could all be over if Geth had chosen differently. “It’s not what I would’ve done.”

“So you _are_ angry.”

“I’m not _happy_ ,” he said frankly. “But… you said it would’ve been _misery for us both_ if you’d taken it up. If you think it was the right choice, then I trust you.”

Geth’s shoulders relaxed as he exhaled, and he nodded. “I promise I wanted to take the offer, but it was a trap. Letting me see you sooner was just the bait.”

“Well, you’re here now.”

“Yeah. Until highsun.” He brightened into a smile, and it might as well have _been_ noonday in the room. “I’m _supposed_ to be sitting in on a meeting with Tasheene, but she reasoned that you shouldn’t suffer extra because I was an idiot.”

“She said that?” 

Geth nodded. 

That was a pleasant surprise. Tasheene had never given him the impression that she cared much about him beyond treating her brother well.

“Tell her thank you for me, then. I’d offer to return the favor somehow, but I don’t really see what I could do.”

“Oh, I’m _sure_ she’ll think of something. It just might be five months from now. Or five years. But she always has some plan or another.” Geth absently rifled through his golden curls. “I guess that’s why it’s good that she’ll be head of the family and not me.”

“No kidding. I can hardly think about what I want five _days_ from now. Except…”

“What?”

“Maybe you came come back once more, before the week’s up? Or I can come visit somehow?”

Geth smiled. “We’ll figure out something. Just… write Tasha yourself, maybe. Pile on the gratitude and offer a favor, and she’ll make it work. Without her, there’s no way my parents don’t find out, but… if _anyone_ can do something without their notice, it’s Tasha.”

“As long as Gav keeps his mouth shut.”

“Oh, he will. Before I see you again, I’ll find out what _actually_ happened between him and Miri.”

Of course he would. Alsendur smiled, lacing his fingers around the small of Geth’s back . “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Geth said, gathering the slack from Sen’s shirt into his grip. “Should we get back to where we were before we were so rudely interrupted before someone else finds me here?”

“Yes, _please_.” Alsendur let Geth pull him closer and tightened his hold until their bodies were pressed against each other and the ephemeral parchment-and-ink version of Geth that he’d held onto these past two weeks was replaced with the firm figure held in his arms. He’d be gone again by highsun, but for now, they were together, and that was enough.

* * *

30 Flamerule 1489

OSVALDO'S FAREWELL

_ Con Dolore, Ma Non Troppo _

On the last day of Flamerule, Alsendur sat with Geth and Adrienne, idly playing his lyre as they traded increasingly below-the-belt insults and spun out wild and wilder dares. Tomorrow would be Midsummer Day, the height of the season–and of the Season, too, with the romantic ambiance of the night combining with increased pressure meaning that there was always at least one proposal. It was the gamble, of course, of proposing on Midsummer’s Day: the perfect time, weighed against the high chance that you’d be sharing your news with someone else.

The three of them were finishing their second bottle of wine when Dorn, the doorman, came to them in the parlor and announced: “Miss Adrienne, Vera Am–”

Dorn was not able to finish his announcement, because Vera Amcathra tore past the servant and threw herself into the room. Her eyes were red and her face streaked with black from tears mixed with makeup.

Adrienne jumped up to catch her, and Vera fell into her arms, breaking into new tears.

“Are you okay?” Sen said, jumping up.

“Clearly not,” Adrienne snapped.

“He’s… he’s _leaving_!” Vera sobbed.

Alsendur looked back at Geth for an explanation, but Geth shrugged. _Osvaldo?_ he mouthed.

Alsendur gestured to Dorn, who immediately seemed to understand the unspoken command and disappeared into the hallway.

“Vera, come sit down,” Adrienne said, walking her friend over to the bench where she’d been sitting. “What happened?”

Vera sat, wiped her face with a silk scarf, and nodded. “It’s Oz. He’s… he’s leaving Waterdeep.”

“Why?” Alsendur asked.

“For how long?” Geth added. “To go where? Hopefully nowhere too uncivilized, or–”

“Let her speak!” Adrienne ordered.

“He’s going to some school in Calimshan,” Vera sniffed.

Geth grimaced. “Gods, _why_?”

“Because his parents are _awful_!”

Dorn reappeared with a silver tray holding a glass of water, a damp washcloth, and two folded kerchiefs. He set it down on the table near Adrienne and then vanished again.

“Are they making him go?” Geth asked.

Vera shrugged. “That’s what he said. But he’s not fighting it, is he?”

“It’s not always that simple,” Geth said. “If he fights too hard, they could make one of the twins the heir. It’s a balancing act.”

“I know that! But… but then he said it wouldn’t be that _bad_. And I thought we were getting married next year!”

“You still could,” Alsendur suggested. “No school is forever.”

“You don’t _get_ it, Sen,” she snapped, coming to and looking at him directly. “He said we’re over.”

“He _what_?” There was no way he heard that right. Osvaldo and Vera were as much a done deal as anyone could be before a debut. And Vera was unquestionably better than anyone else Osvaldo would find–in status, in appearance, in personality.

“He _broke up_ with me. On _Midsummer’s_ , too.”

Sen grimaced.

“What did he say?” Adrienne asked.

“A lot…” Vera shook her head. “He acted sad but then he said it would be a good time to _work on himself_ and _get perspective_ and…” Vera burst into tears once more.

“What an _asshole_ ,” Adrienne said.

Geth looked on impassively, but his thumb rubbed against his forefinger in a subtle tell that there was something on his mind. Something bothering him.

Alsendur’s heart dropped. Maybe he shouldn’t have dragged his feet so much about their own future–the whole point of a betrothal was to stop this kind of out-of-nowhere abrupt ending. Of course, betrothals could be broken, but not without cause or political blowback. And Sen would never do what Osvaldo was doing now. His hand drifted over and took Geth’s and gave a silent squeeze. Just something to say _I’m still here, we’re okay_ without drawing attention from Vera.

Geth flashed a half-hearted smile at Sen but then looked back to Vera with the same blank expression, and his fidget transferred to his other hand.

“Maybe he’s protecting you,” Geth offered.

Vera spun around, surprised by Geth’s voice. “From what?”

“You said his parents were doing this. Did he just find out?”

“That’s what he _said_.”

“And you believe him?”

She shrugged. “I think so. Maybe he’s just trying to find the silver lining… he always says that’s what Lathander teaches. Find the new beginnings, right?” She wiped a tear from her eye. “He says it isn’t fair for me to wait for him. But I would. I have! And he should wait for me. I don’t see why things need to end just because of this.”

Geth seemed to come alive a little more now, letting go of Sen’s hand and leaning in slightly. “You have to move on.”

“Geth, she’s a mess,” Alsendur hissed. “That’s not–”

Geth held a hand up to silence him, but he kept his eyes on Vera. “I’m saying this as a friend, Vera. The Cassalanters want you to hang on to this, dangle you by a thread that they can then cut off at any moment’s notice. You don’t have a betrothal arrangement, so there’s nothing protecting you. If you wait around, it sabotages your chances of marrying someone decent, doesn’t it?”

Vera shook her head. “I don’t want to think about that now. I–”

“You have to, though. You _do_ see that they’re the ones doing this. His parents.”

Adrienne glared at him. “You have no evidence of that,” she said.

“Don’t defend them,” Geth spat. “This is _exactly_ what they do. If they can keep the best noblewoman our age out of commission for a few years until everyone worthwhile is married off, and then she’s left with… what? Some boy younger than Dorian or the dregs of the dregs? Or a brightcoin merchant that waters down her family line, or some foreign noble…? That’s what they want.”

Vera listened in horror and shakily asked, “You think the _whole_ relationship was just a ploy?”

Geth shook his head. “No, I don’t think your relationship was a ploy,” he said. “Osvaldo is _definitely_ into you. That’s why this makes no sense unless he _does_ love you and doesn’t want to string you along.”

“Why wouldn’t he just say that, then?” Alsendur asked.

Geth cast a disparaging look his way. “And make his own parents sound like monsters?”

Alsendur tipped his head in acknowledgement. 

“They’re not like that,” Adrienne insisted. “Uncle Victoro would never.” 

Vera, though, looked to Geth with hopeful eyes. “You really think all that?”

He nodded.

“But then I _should_ wait,” Vera said, much calmer now. “If he actually loves me, right? There’s no reason we can’t write and visit. I can still go about my debut, but… _plenty_ of people marry older than twenty-one. It’s not like all the prospects will be gone. I won’t be any older than your sisters. It’s not like Tasheene and Arveene are doomed, right?”

Geth’s eyes flashed. “Don’t bring Tasheene into this,” he warned.

“Why not? This is her third Season and no one’s talking about her like she’s out of options!”

“You’re kind of missing the basic fact that marrying Osvaldo means joining the family that would do that to you,” Geth said.

Vera turned to Adrienne. “But what do _you_ think?”

“I think Geth’s being an asshole,” she said. “But he’s also… sort of right–it doesn’t matter _why_ Osvaldo is doing this. You’re too good for it.”

“But–”

“Let’s go upstairs,” Adrienne said. “We’ll have someone bring up some cake and then we’ll clean you up and go out and forget about Osvaldo, okay?”

Vera nodded slowly, and Adrienne touched her hand to her back, guiding her towards the hallway.

“I’ll be right there,” Adrienne said.

Vera gave her a weak smile and went ahead, while Adrienne detoured toward the boys. “I sure as hell hope you aren’t playing some kind of _angle_ here, Geth,” she hissed.

“I’m not!” he said, eyes wide with innocence.

Adrienne looked him over, scrutinizing him, and said, “Okay, fine. Just give her space to deal with her feelings first, then, before you go analyzing the political motivations, will you?”

“Got it,” Geth said. “When she’s around, I’ll _give her room for her emotions_. But don’t pretend like these things aren’t political, Adrienne.”

_These things_ being love. Marriage. It was disgusting, how the competition between noble houses made something that should be so personal, so authentic and true, into just another political race. It made Alsendur want to throw up.

“I’m not pretending anything,” Adrienne said. She turned and shouted ahead, “Sorry, Vera coming!” and then left Alsendur and Geth sitting there alone.

“You really think his parents are doing this to screw her over?” Alsendur asked.

“This is what they _do_ , Sen,” Geth repeated, in a wearied tone now. “This is what…” He faded into silence, looking far off into the distance.

“Geth?”

Geth pressed his eyes shut and took a deep breath. “They pulled this with Tasheene. Totally undermined her Season by leading her to think Oz was waiting in the wings. Tasha turned down _three_ proposals. And then, just before Osvaldo’s debut, they backed out.”

“What the fuck?”

Geth shrugged one shoulder. “There was no formal betrothal, right? Like Oz and Vera now. Or…”

Or the two of them. “Geth, you know I’d _never_ –”

“I know,” Geth said, though his voice fell flat. “It was different. She and Osvaldo… they were never like us. Or like him and Vera. It was mostly unspoken. They weren’t _together_. They were just friends, and it was convenient. Until it wasn’t.”

“How would that have worked, anyway?” Alsendur asked. “Tasha and Oz, I mean. They’re both heirs, so–”

“One of them would’ve given that up. I can’t imagine Tasha would’ve. I assume that was part of the problem. Maybe Osvaldo was too willing, and his parents didn’t like that at all.” He shook his head. “I don’t know all the ins and outs of it. But I know Tasha was furious. Still is.”

“I had no idea. I thought they just… were _sort_ of together casually and then broke up.”

“Yeah, well. It would be pretty embarrassing if people thought we’d been snubbed by the Cassalanters, wouldn’t it? And Osvaldo wasn’t going to say anything and look like an asshole.”

Alsendur nodded.

“This is obviously in confidence.”

“Of course.”

Geth shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe that’s not the only reason they’re doing this now–you _know_ Osvaldo’s been a pain in the ass, always arguing with his father–but… it’s definitely a benefit for them.”

“The twins are going to miss him,” Sen said. Elzerina and Terenzio were only five, turning six in just a week’s time. They probably didn’t even understand that their older brother that they followed around all day was going away for so long. “He’s so good with them.”

“Yeah, I too have heard Vera’s list of why he’s _good father_ material,” Geth quipped. “But they have Nana Rosse. I mean, _I_ hated her when she worked for us, but they’ve seemed to like her well enough. And I’m sure they’ll visit Osvaldo over winter. And he’ll be back in three years and have plenty of time with them back in Waterdeep. They’ll still be family. That won’t change.”

Unlike Vera.

Alsendur slumped in the sofa. Osvaldo and Vera were a constant, something obvious and normal in an unpredictable world. “He’s his own person,” he said. “He could’ve fought for her. Even if _his_ parents cut his inheritance, he could’ve joined the Amcathras. They would’ve accepted him.”

“True. And Adrienne could be right, too. Osvaldo–as I have said, time and again–is kind of insufferable. I’m sure he totally believes all the bullshit he told Vera about finding himself or whatever.”

“Or he stopped loving her.”

Geth cast a dark look at Sen. “What, just… stopped?”

“I don’t know. Fell out of love. You can’t control falling _in_ love. Maybe you can’t control falling _out_ of it, either.”

“You think that’ll happen to us?”

Alsendur shook his head. “I don’t… I don’t _expect_ it to,” he said. It wasn’t the right answer, even if it was the honest one.

“No, it’s not _going_ to,” Geth said, as if he could control the future if he summoned enough willpower. “We’re not some fleeting thing. We’re best friends.”

“I know.”

“If anything stops us being together, it won’t be because we’ve just moved on. Someone would have to _do_ something. Something awful and unforgivable that totally ruins our trust in each other.”

Alsendur shuddered. He could never live with himself doing something like that. “I won’t,” he said, quietly. “I’d never.”

“Good,” Geth said, a little too harshly. “I didn’t think you would.” He reached his hand over and took Sen’s, adding, “And neither would I.”

Alsendur nodded, and laced his fingers between Geth’s, squeezing his hand tight. He rested his head on Geth’s shoulder, and said, “Tasheene and Osvaldo would be a terrible couple anyway.”

A sharp laugh jumped from Geth’s chest. “You want to tell Tasha that yourself?”

“Can’t. I don’t know anything about it.”

Geth turned his head to brush his nose against Alsendur’s forehead and then pressed a kiss along his browline. “Thank you,” he muttered.

Alsendur smiled even as he swallowed over a lump in his throat. 

Geth was right. There was nothing fleeting about this. They’d never just _fall out of love_. And neither of them would ever do something so awful and unforgivable as to break the trust they shared.

Right?


	14. Eleasis (August) 1489

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geth prepares to head to the beach with Sen to celebrate his eighteenth birthday, but Tasheene has a few questions first.

14 Eleasis 1489

BIRTHDAY GREETINGS

_Impazientemente_   


“Geth?”

It was Tasheene’s voice calling his name, far off, coming from the hallway.

“Come in,” Geth called out. The click and creak of the door opening were followed by her footsteps approaching, and then she was there, standing in the doorway to his dressing room.

He held up two shirts. “Which should I wear to the beach?”

She screwed up her face in annoyance. “Is there even a difference?”

Geth groaned dramatically and pushed them closer to her face. “They’re different _colors_ , Tasha. And fabrics. This one is cream silk, and _this_ one is ecru linen. Do you need your eyes fixed, or…?”

She waved a dismissive hand. “They’re both fine,” she said. “Silk, I guess.”

He looked at the cream silk shirt, scrunched his nose, and tossed it aside. “No, it’ll get stained by the salt-spray.”

“So glad I could help.”

He handed the ecru linen to the valet, who began to remove it from the hanger while Geth stood, waiting.

“Can I speak with you alone?” Tasheene asked, eyeing the valet.

Geth shrugged and held his hand out to take the shirt back. “Go take five,” he said. “I’ve got it.”

The servant handed over the shirt, half unbuttoned, but flashed a nervous look to Tasheene. “I’ll… check with the cook that your provisions are ready, sir.”

“Sure,” Geth said, and the servant left. Tasheene shut the door behind him and looked cautiously around the dressing room.

“Happy birthday,” she said.

Geth laughed as he hung the shirt up to finish unbuttoning it. “Thanks? Do birthday greetings require privacy now?”

She shook her head, and he turned back around to the screen, slipping the shirt off the hanger. 

“There’s something else,” she said. “I don’t want to add to your plate right now, but I do have a favor to ask you.”

He turned to face her again as he pulled the shirt on and began to button it, though the buttons were threaded so tightly with narrow holes that made it far more difficult than it should have been. Not a good choice for his birthday date after all, unless they just ripped the stupid buttons off. Maybe that would be for the best, actually, since they clearly needed redoing. 

“I’m waiting.”

“Has Mother or Father spoken with you yet today?”

Geth shook his head. “I saw Father in passing. He said happy birthday. Why? Did they get me something exciting?”

Tasheene rolled her eyes. “I’m not here about your _present_. But, yes, it’s good.”

“What is it?”

“It’s a _surprise_ , Geth.”

He groaned. “Just _tell_ me. I’ll act completely surprised. Look–” He opened his eyes wide, dropped his mouth open just enough, and took in a sharp breath while turning his head slightly.

“Yes, you’re a wonderful actor,” Tasha said, impatience cutting her words. “But I’m not here about that. I want to talk to you about something important.”

Geth scrunched his face in disappointment and dropped onto a low chaise in the middle of the small room. 

“Fine,” he said. “But you only have ten minutes before Sen’s supposed to be here.”

She leaned against his vanity, pushing aside carefully arranged cosmetics and brushes and fragrances in order to create a makeshift seat for herself, and then pushed herself up and onto the surface.

“Sure, go ahead, make yourself comfortable,” Geth muttered. “So, why are you here? You said you wanted a favor. Spit it out.”

She cocked her head, looked him over, and asked, “ _If_ Mother or Father approach you about anything… unusual… will you tell me about it?”

Geth laughed. “What, do I work for you now instead of Mother?”

Tasha blinked humorlessly and raised her black eyebrows, as if to say, _That’s sort of the question, isn’t it?_

His eyes widened, and he sat forward, leaning his weight on the balls of his feet and the heels of his palms. He didn’t speak. Instead, he mouthed silently, _Are you fucking crazy?_

She shook her head. “I think what happened with Grandmother should be a lesson to us all.”

“You think Mother was wrong to send her away?”

“Not at all,” Tasha said. “Mother saved us all, and we owe her for that. Grandmother made a poor choice. She put so much on the line in exchange for Neverember’s favor, and look where that got her: it could’ve undone this whole family, if not for Mother.”

“So then why–”

“No one’s perfect, Geth,” she interrupted.

_No one’s perfect_. So Mother could make the same mistake–or a similar enough one. And Tasheene knew full well that she might have to do the same thing their mother did: sweep in, shift their alliances, and send the old matriarch packing to an early retirement.

_Looking after the wine trade._

He mouthed again, _You think that’ll happen?_

“Probably not.” Tasha shrugged, shook her head. _But I won’t be blind_ , she mouthed back. And then aloud, she added, “She’s had plenty of years of playing us against each other, hasn’t she?”

Geth couldn’t argue with that. He’d tried so hard to stay relevant and important in his mother’s eyes compared to Tasha, despite it being near impossible. Despite every achievement he made being compared to his smarter, savvier, more motivated, more beautiful, more responsible sister.

But it had never seemed a two-way street. _That_ was curious.

“To _you_?” he asked, letting her fill in the context.

“Oh, please. While you were out there trading your dignity for gossip–”

“Hey!”

Tasha rolled her eyes and continued: “— _I_ was getting duped by the Cassalanters. You think she’d ever let me forget that?”

Geth furrowed his brow. That seemed cruel, even for their mother, but then… In her eyes, she was helping them be better. Reminding them to not make the same mistakes twice.

“I’d like us to work together, instead of competing,” she said. “That’s all.”

“Nine hells, Tasha…” He wiped the back of his hand against his forehead. Like there was any question, if it came down to it. Mother versus Tasheene. He wouldn’t let himself be _disowned_ for his sister, but short of that? “Of course,” he answered. “But it would be nice to know what you’re trying to accomplish with all of this.”

She looked down so that her sleek hair fell across her face. Which meant that whatever she was going to say was going to be pure, grade-A horseshit. “I’m just trying to do what’s best for the family,” she said. And here she looked back up, and her eyes met his again. “But it is time you start thinking about what _you_ want to accomplish, what _you_ want in life. And which lines you’re willing to cross for it, and which ones you aren’t. Otherwise, it’s easy to get swept up in what other people want, or what they want for you.”

“Other people like _you_ ,” he scoffed.

She shrugged and tucked her hair back behind her ear. “Yes, like me. Of course I don’t mind you helping me with my goals. But I’m not saying this as someone with her own ambitions. I’m saying this as your sister, wanting the best for you, wanting you to set your own path. You’re eighteen. Soon you’ll be Presented, and–”

“Not for seven months,” he noted. “And then, sure. It’ll be great. I’ll be able to go to all the real parties, not be relegated to the children’s table.”

“The children’s table?”

He nodded. “Mother doesn’t give a shit about the things I know, because the things I know are meaningless. Because I don’t have access to the rooms where real things happen.”

A troubled expression clouded her face, though Geth couldn’t see why.

“So you do have _some_ ambition,” she said at last.

“I guess.” He looked away from her scrutinizing gaze and tugged at the cuff of his shirt. “Is it so bad that I like my life as it is?” He raised his eyes again, in confrontation this time. “That I’m _happy_? You always say we’re so lucky to be born to this family… is it a crime that I _enjoy_ what I have and don’t wish for twenty other things?”

“No, of course not.”

“Are you sure? Because Father definitely thinks I lack _intellectual drive_ ,” he said, wagging his nose in the air, “and sometimes it seems like you and Mother think it’s some sort of personal _failing_ that I don’t have my eye set on… oh, I don’t know, being a _Masked Lord_ ,” he sneered.

“I’m not here for a fight,” she snapped.

He rolled his eyes. He already had Grandmother, Mother, and Father offering constantly unsolicited advice. He didn’t need his sister to do it too. 

“Whatever,” he said. And then he looked up and smiled simperingly sweet. “Thanks _so_ much for this birthday chat, Tasha. Now, what’s _best_ for me would be if you could get off my vanity so I can finish getting ready for Sen–”

“You’re serious about him, aren’t you?”

A flicker of surprise jumped across his face. “Yes, obviously,” he said. _What did he want in life?_ “I want to marry him. _That’s_ what I want. I mean, I also want to apprentice to Father. I want to be Master of Wisdom someday. I want to stay in Waterdeep, _not_ be sent off to the gods-forsaken vineyards. And I want to marry Sen–whenever he’s ready, which may be a while, but I can wait.”

Tasheene nodded. “He seems to make you happy.”

Geth found himself smiling stupidly. “He does.”

“Good. I want you to be happy, Geth. I don’t think it’s bad that you are. I’m only asking you to know what it is that _makes_ you happy, so you don’t trade it away for something stupid.”

Geth wrinkled his nose. “Why would I trade anything away?”

Tasheene tilted her head again, but she tucked her hair back to clear her face. “Life presents all sorts of… offers. Sometimes offers seem better than they are. And sometimes people think they won’t miss things that they do.”

“Like my _dignity_?” he echoed, laughing. “I’m not an idiot, Tasha. I know about costs. And I don’t have… whatever you called it. _Lines I’d cross and lines I wouldn’t._ But I’m not going to hurt the people I love.”

She smiled, a little sadly, and Geth narrowed his eyes. Tasheene wasn’t telling him the whole truth, that much was clear. But whatever it was, it was bothering her too much. She wasn’t going to bring it up, because she didn’t do that. She didn’t let herself be vulnerable or show fear, not in front of Geth. 

“You don’t need to worry about me, Tasha. The good thing about a lack of ambition is that I’m not easily bought. I can’t think of anything I’d sell you out for. Or Sen. You two, this home, this family… that’s everything I have. And the only person who can hold that over me is Mother, so as long as she doesn’t wedge us apart, or forbid me from seeing Sen… I don’t see a problem.”

“Well, that’s good. I’m sure she’d prefer Algavain over Alsendur–”

“ _Eurgh_ ,” Geth interjected.

“—but she’s never going to forbid you from seeing the son of her favorite person in Waterdeep. You still trust him?”

“Absolutely.”

“And you think he’ll fit into the family?”

He _hoped_ so. “Yeah, I do,” he said, more confidently than he felt. “I mean, Mother’s a lot, but he’s used to her. And he and Father can talk magic and lore. And I’m sure he’d like you, if he weren’t so _terrified_ of you…”

Tasheene snorted.

“And you’d probably like him, if you’d give him the time of day.”

“I _do_ like him,” she countered. “I give him space, because he’s terrified of me.”

“Because you threatened him.”

“Because he _hurt_ you.”

Geth smiled. 

“He’s rather _pious_ , isn’t he?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Geth said, brightening into a full grin now as he thought more about Sen’s little habits, muttering a prayer to Oghma or Milil or Sune, as the situation required. Geth rolled his eyes, sometimes, but it was a kind of thoughtfulness that made a welcome change in a world of people who only cared about themselves. “But like, _Milil_ pious. Not like… Osvaldo’s Lathanderite phase. He’s not _insufferable_.”

“No,” Tasha said, pursing her lips and looking aside. “He’s nothing like Oz.”

“You dodged a bullet there, Tasha.”

“Oh, I’m aware,” she said, meeting his eyes again and forcing a smile. “Imagine having to deal with the Cassalanters day in and day out.”

Geth mimed a gag reflex, just as Tasheene was doing the exact same, and then they met each other’s eyes and burst into laughter.

“They really are the _worst_ ,” he said. “Osvaldo’s the least awful of the lot, and the pious act was a bit much. Sen’s _quiet_ about it, at least.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she said. “It’s not my thing, or yours, obviously, but sometimes a dose of piety is a good thing. _If_ it’s to the right gods.”

“The gods of knowledge.”

“Sure.” She tilted her head to the side and said, “Or the gods of life. Of goodness.”

Geth snorted. “Like there’s an actual objective thing you can call _goodness_. Mother says there’s only knowledge and ignorance.”

“Mother’s _wrong_ ,” Tasha said, suddenly serious. “Evil is a real thing, Geth, and so is good.”

“Eurgh, you _did_ spend too much time with Oz.”

A hairbrush came flying at his face, and he bolted forward to swat it out of the way just before it hit him. 

“Hey!” he shouted. “You could’ve broken my _nose_!”

“Oh, please. If you couldn’t catch that, that’s your fault.”

“My fault?! I’m not the one _throwing hairbrushes_ , you _fiend_.”

“For being eighteen, you’re a total baby, you know that?”

“For being twenty, you–”

A muffled knock interrupted his insult.

“Fuck!” he muttered, jumping up and opening the dressing room door. It _couldn’t_ be Sen–not already. Not _early_. Usually Sen showed up a half hour late, at least, apologizing about getting caught up in harp practice and losing track of time. Geth didn’t mind, particularly, as he wasn’t exactly punctual himself–though this time, he’d been on track to be ready on time. Until Tasha had swept in demanding his allegiance or some bullshit. “What is it?” he called out. 

“Master Geth? Alsendur Majarra is here!” the servant said through the door.

He spun around and glared at Tasheene. “Now I have no time to finish getting ready!”

She wrinkled her nose and stuck out her tongue, in a total display of maturity, and then jumped down from the vanity. “I’ll delay him,” she said, tousling his hair out of place.

That was what he was afraid of, but he glanced in the mirror, and vanity won out over fear. As he fixed his hair, he heard the door open and Sen’s voice saying, “Oh, uh, Tasheene! Well met.”

“He’ll be right along,” she said. “You know Geth, always running late.”

“What a bitch,” Geth muttered under his breath. He glanced through the door and spotted Sen. 

In a white linen shirt. 

“Fuck,” he muttered again. It wouldn’t do to look like some matching pair, so he pried the stiff buttonholes loose and ripped his shirt off with one hand as the other went rummaging for a different choice. Somehow servants were always underfoot except when you actually needed them.

He was too caught up in finding a new shirt (blue linen, white embroidery) to hear more of the muffled awkward conversation between his sister and boyfriend, though once he focused on it again, he didn’t hear Tasheene at all.

And then Sen was there, casting a shadow into the room, rapping politely on the half-open door. “Am I allowed in?”

“Of course,” Geth said, crossing over and opening the door fully. “Come in.”

“Hi,” Sen said, smiling as he looked down in the perfect way he always did–his full attention falling on Geth, his face starstruck and dazed, his eyes drifting to Geth’s mouth–just before they kissed. Geth leaned in and Sen’s arms wrapped around him, and for a few seconds, all the stresses of his earlier conversation vanished.

Their lips parted, and Sen ran a gentle hand through Geth’s hair, careful not to mess it up as Tasha had, but taking in every detail.

“Happy birthday,” he said, at last.

“Thanks. You ready to head over?”

Alsendur nodded, and Geth took his arm and steered him out of the dressing room, through his bedroom, toward the hall.

“Sorry about Tasha,” he said.

“It’s okay,” Sen said. “She was fine.”

“She didn’t harass you at all?”

He laughed. “No, just gave her regards to Vee. She said you two had been catching up.”

“Yeah, she decided that my last minutes getting dressed would be a great time for a heart to heart.”

“Really?” Sen looked down at the hall, as if it could explain–or as if it might be listening, which in all likelihood it was–, and then back at Geth. “About what?”

He shrugged, waiting a few moments as they rounded the corner back to the grand stair before muttering, “Wanting me to _think about my future_ , that kind of thing.”

“What–”

Geth cut his gaze across to the door below and then back at Sen. _Later_. _Outside. Not here_. 

Sen nodded, and then he said, “Well, I know I don’t like talking about the future… but I hope I’m part of whatever future you were planning.”

Geth intercepted him on the stairs and looked up with widened eyes. It wasn’t a statement of commitment exactly, but it was as close to one as Sen had made since they’d started dating–certainly without prompting. He rested his hand on Sen’s chest and blinked up at him. “You mean that?”

“Yeah.” Sen gave a crooked half-smile and then drew it into a full one before leaning in so their foreheads touched. “Absolutely.”

Their noses brushed as Geth reached for a second kiss, though Sen drew away, looking around them uncomfortably. “The beach?” he asked.

Geth nodded in agreement and turned back down the stairs, hurrying to the foyer with Sen following just behind.

It wasn’t a long trip to the beach–just half a block away. Getting out of the villa took nearly as much time as getting to the shore, and once they were there and the servant who had tagged behind finished setting up blankets and the picnic basket of food and wine, they finally had privacy–or as much privacy as someone could get on a city beach on warm summer day.

Sen stretched out on the blanket, leaning his head back into his hands and showing off his shoulders and arms, toned from so many hours spent between the harp and combat training. He closed his eyes and settled into a satisfied relaxed expression, but then he shielded his eyes to peek over at Geth and flashed a smile. And then he closed his eyes once more.

_You’re serious about him?_ Tasha had asked.

There wasn’t much Geth was more serious about.

_What did he want in life?_ He wanted to apprentice with his father, to be Master of Wisdom and Whispers someday, to stay in Waterdeep, and he wanted to marry Sen. Whenever he was ready, even if that would be a while. 

He wanted this perfect moment on the beach, the sun baking down on them, the waves crashing nearby… right now, but forever.

He lay down, resting his head against Sen’s chest and letting the heavy beat of his heart mesh with the sound of the surf and the cries of the gulls. The warmth and weight and constant rhythms were so _real_ and all-encompassing, making Tasheene and her ambitions and hypotheticals seem like nothing more than wisps in the wind.

Being with Sen tended to do that. He was real and present and honest in a world of speculation and intrigue and secrets.

“She wanted to know if my loyalty was to her or Mother,” Geth said, flipping over and resting his chin along his arms.

Sen’s eyes popped open, and he propped his head up. “And you said…?”

Geth made a face like, _Isn’t it obvious_? And Sen waggled his head side to side. It was.

“And she wants me to figure out my future. My own ambitions. Blah blah.”

“Yeah? And?”

“I’m trying to figure that out, I guess. But you’re part of it. I know you don’t want to talk about it, but–”

“It’s okay,” Sen said.

Geth grinned, and his chin dug into his forearm. “I _love_ you, Sen. I want my future to be just like this. You and me and the Deep. And I know it’ll be different, when you go on adventures, but then I want you to come home to me. That’s what I want.”

Sen pushed himself up further and caught Geth’s lips in his. “Me too,” he said, and that was the best birthday present of all.


	15. Eleint (September) 1489

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geth and Alsendur go to a party in Amphail and meet some commoners. Drama ensues.

BRIGHTCOINS AND BRIGHT STARS

13 Eleint 1489

_con fuoco_

Alsendur sipped his icewine, watching Geth slowly work his way back, getting caught up by greeting and catching up with every other partier standing between them. Alsendur smiled. That was _his boyfriend_ lighting up the room in the Amcathra country estate, rivaling the hostess herself–and Vera was no shoddy hostess. There was a certain special satisfaction in that.

“Majarra, isn’t it?”

Alsendur spun toward the voice, a sweet tenor that he didn’t recognize, and found a young Chondathan man smiling at him, with hair the color of a setting sun and a smile as bright as it.

“Yes,” he said, holding out a hand. “Alsendur Majarra. And you are…”

“Nico Vellari,” he said, shaking his hand. “Please to make your acquaintance.”

“Likewise,” he said, bowing his head. “Are you _from_ Amphail, or…?”

“Gods, no. I’m from the Deep. We just have a house here.”

“Oh! I didn’t recognize the name. Vallari?”

Nico nodded. “Well, we used to be…” he started, and then cut himself off, clearly not keen on discussing whatever it was they _used to be_ : “Doesn’t matter. Yeah, Vellari. Of Vellari Import-Exports,” he explained. “Spices and silks from Calimshan and beyond!” He sang the words like a slogan but rolled his eyes through it. “I’m sure you’ve heard of it.”

Alsendur had not, but Nico’s singing hit him unaware and drew Sen’s attention to his lips and cut jawline, and really, who knew? Maybe Alsendur _had_ heard of it before and he’d just forgotten. “Sure, yeah, of course,” he said. “You come to Amphail often, then?”

“Once a week in summer. And then Father likes us to spend a couple of weeks of hard labor out here so we _know what it’s like to earn our keep_ or something… I honestly think he just likes having my two brothers and me out of the house.”

Alsendur laughed. “I’m sure if we had a place out here, my parents would do the same. I’m one of four, so–you can imagine.”

Nico grinned. “Well, maybe you should come visit sometime. When I’m not mucking stables to _build character_ or whatever, I like to come out here and ride. Clear my head a little.”

Alsendur’s eyes involuntarily ran down Nico’s form, which was easy enough to assess through his well-tailored and close-fitting attire. He certainly had the lean physique and sculpted legs of a frequent rider–and more than someone who limited their time to a quiet walk across the grounds once a week. But he didn’t _smell_ like someone who spent all their time with horses–thank the gods.

“Is that how you know Vera, then?” Alsendur asked, drawing his attention back up to Nico’s face.

“Sure is. Both of my steeds are Amcathra, actually. The whole family prefers them—Vera’s family breeds the finest in the area.”

“Both? You have two of your _own_ horses?”

He shrugged. “One’s better for show, the other for hunting,” he explained.

“So you were the child who asks for a pony for his birthday and _actually_ gets one? Twice?”

Nico laughed, a light airy laugh. “I hardly think a noble should be one to judge.”

“Not judging!” Alsendur said, holding his hands up. “But… noble or not, I don’t have my own Amcathra steed. Not _personally_ , at least. Not that I really need one–we only leave Waterdeep for winters.”

“All the more reason to visit,” Nico said. “Amphail’s especially wonderful this time of year. Before winter strikes, come out for a day, and we’ll go ride. How’s that sound?”

Nico leaned closer as he made the offer, and Alsendur’s throat caught as he tried to answer. There weren’t any strings attached, as far as he could see, and it wasn’t like it was inappropriate to have _friends_ , even if they had the kind of smile that made you forget your name and sculpted arms and (most likely) abs to match. Was it?

“Sounds great,” Sen eventually choked out, “I’d love to visit and ride you–ride _with_ you! With! _With_ you!”

Alsendur’s face flushed hot and he covered his mouth as Nico laughed. 

“Sune spare me,” Sen muttered.

Nico just laughed more. The Lady of Love never spared him. Why start now?

“Can we just… forget I said that?”

“We can,” Nico said, but he leaned closer and touched Alsendur’s arm. “But we don’t have to.”

“No, we _really_ should,” Alsendur protested, his cheeks pinched in nervous laughter. “Not that I don’t–I just–”

A warm hand met his back and the familiar fragrance of spice and resin and sweet wine brought him relief. “Sen, there you are!” rang Geth’s voice.

Alsendur pulled back from Nico and looked at Geth with more gratitude than he knew he could feel. “Geth, yeah, hi, I was just–”

“Flirting with Nico Vellari? Yes, I see that.” Geth flashed a cold smile at Sen and then turned to Nico, beaming warmly and offering a hand. “Nice to see you again, Nico.”

“Geth Melshimber,” Nico greeted. “Well met. It’s been a while.”

“So it has. Last time we met, you were playing at being a noble. Just Vellari again now, aren’t you?”

It was Nico’s turn to turn red, more so than his ruddy complexion already was. He cast his eyes down and mumbled, “Yes, thanks to that silver-haired witch.”

“No, no, Nico. Thanks to _all_ of us who stood together to end Neverember’s tyrannical reign. But listen,” Geth said, brushing a hand on Nico’s shoulder and flashing another smile, “none of that’s your fault. I hear your family’s doing quite well. Import-Exports, is it?”

Nico looked up, glaring at Geth. “Yes, as you very well know. Do you mind? Alsendur and I were having a perfectly pleasant conversation before–”

“Before I caught back up with my _boyfriend_? Yes, I could tell.”

“Your –”  Nico looked between them, and Alsendur nodded.

“I was trying to explain–” Alsendur started.

“I see.”

“No, no, it’s all right,” Geth said, dripping with that signature insincerity that so easily fooled people. People who weren’t Sen. “Alsendur’s free to do whatever–or _whom_ ever–he wants. As am I.” The corner of his lips pulled into a smug little smile, and his eyelids hung heavy as he looked Nico over.

And Nico fell for it. He smiled stupidly and looked between Geth and Alsendur, leaned forward, and muttered, “You two can _both_ come back to my place tonight, if…”

“No, I don’t think that’s–” Alsendur started, pulling away from the conversation. “Can I… have a moment with Geth?”

Nico shrugged. “Sure, talk it over.”

Geth laughed, a harsh and brittle laugh that made Alsendur’s skin crawl. Nothing nice would follow.

“Nico,” he said, “if the day comes when I ever wanted to fuck a _commoner_ , I’m sure you’d top the list. But I wouldn’t lose sleep waiting for it.”

As Nico’s mouth fell slack in offense, Geth took Alsendur’s arm and steered him away.

“What the _fuck_ was that, Geth?” Sen hissed.

“What? You mean where you were trying to get into someone’s pants while at a party with me?” Geth stopped walking and spun, looking up at Alsendur with fury in his eyes.

“I was _not_.”

“Oh _really_?”

“Yes, really! We were _talking_.”

Geth scoffed and then leaned in, touching Sen’s arm like Nico had and blinking up with dewy eyes and pouting lips. “So you don’t mind if I talk to everyone like this, then?”

“You _do_ talk to everyone like that!”

Geth laughed, but there was no joy in it. “Not anymore, I don’t,” he said. “Certainly not when I’m _with_ you.”

“Oh, so just behind my back? Like that’s better?”

“Yeah, when I’m _using_ someone. Like how that _fucking_ brightcoin Nico was trying to use you.”

Alsendur shook his head in confusion. “He wasn’t–”

“Oh _please_ , Sen. His family bought his way into the nobility, and now that Lady Silverhand’s restored the family that his supplanted, he needs a new way of gaining legitimacy. He didn’t realize you were with me, so you were a path to that.”

That couldn’t be right. But then… it did make sense. Alsendur’s stomach turned. “You’re just jealous,” he snapped. “You can’t _deal_ with someone else having attention, can you?”

“ _Your_ attention? No!”

“Ugh!” He wrenched his arm away. “I don’t _belong_ to you, Geth Melshimber.”

Geth’s eyes widened. “I never said you did, but–”

“I love you, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to lock myself in some closet and never look at anyone else.”

“Obviously not,” Geth spat. “But–”

“But _what_ , exactly?” Alsendur snapped. “I did _nothing_ wrong. Even if I was flirting, which I _wasn’t_ , I’m allowed to, just as much as you. So what was my offense?”

Geth’s jaw tightened, and his eyes narrowed.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Alsendur shook his head in disgust. “You know, I was _relieved_ when you showed up. I thought you’d saved me from unwanted attention, but then you turned around and were a total _asshole_ about it, first to Nico, and then to me.”

“I’m not being an asshole to you!”

“Yeah, you are.”

“No, I was trying to _protect_ you from skeeving title-chasers. Flirt all you _fucking_ want.”

“I will!”

Geth laughed. “Fine. Have fun with it, and you know what? Go ahead and fuck them, if you can. See if I care.” He spun around and disappeared into the crowd, leaving Alsendur in a roiling mix of fury and indignation and hurt and despair.

“Fucking _hells_ ,” he cursed under his breath. 

He looked around for someone he knew, but when he spotted Vera, he saw that that’s where Geth had stormed off to.

So Alsendur did what Alsendur did best: retreated into music. He grabbed himself another drink and slipped over toward the band, found a space along the wall and leaned back against it, drinking his _zzar_ and trying to lose himself in the layers of melody and harmony. It wasn’t terribly _good_ music, and he found himself eyeing the sloppy form of the lyrist more than appreciating the joyful clamor of their chords.

His eyes scanned the crowd as he listened. Geth was off in a far corner, laughing up a storm with a crowd of people Alsendur didn’t even recognize. Vera was fending off Miri Ilzimmer and the Ilzimmer lackeys with plenty of help from Adrienne–enough that Alsendur would just get in the way if he tried to assist.

There was one other person actively listening to the music–a young Tethyrian woman–and suddenly her eyes caught his. They were the same soft blue as the silk that draped across her shoulders, obscuring just enough to highlight her slender neck and decolletage, and of the a matching scarf that held back a cloud of tight brown curls. Alsendur had never seen her before–he would’ve remembered.

He looked back at the musicians and broke her gaze. Sure, Geth had said to flirt with anyone he liked, but he hadn’t meant it, and honestly, Alsendur was starting to feel rotten about the whole thing. Maybe Geth _had_ just been looking out for him. Now that Nico wasn’t in front of him, flashing his smile and flaunting his perfect body, the whole interaction did seem a little suspect.

The music fell silent, and the band members set their instruments down and separated. 

Set break.

Alsendur sighed. Maybe it was time to go back and try to make amends–but then the young woman caught his eye again and gestured to the chair next to her.

He looked side to side, just to be sure he wasn’t misreading, but there wasn’t anyone else in her sightline. He pointed a finger to his chest in question, and she laughed and nodded, and then made a beckoning gesture.

“You look like someone who needs company,” she said as he sat down.

“Wow, thanks,” he grumbled.

She laughed lightly and shook her head. “If you’d rather be alone…”

“No, you’re right.” He held out a hand. “My name’s Alsendur.”

“Of House Majarra?”

He nodded.

“I’m Elena Riverlight,” she said, taking his hand. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Likewise, I’m sure,” he said. “Are you here with someone?”

She smiled. “Yes, actually. Trinian Nesher–you know him, I think?”

“I do. So where is he?”

“Oh, he got roped into some tiresome political argument with Kassivi Thongolir, and I didn’t really care to hear nobles bickering over city politics as if they actually understood it.”

Alsendur grimaced. “Ouch.”

Elena shrugged. “It’s fine. He’s a dear. It just gets old. So what’s having _you_ looking so forlorn and friendless? Aren’t you with Geth Melshimber?”

Alsendur looked down at his drink, but a warmth cut through his frustrations and brought a smile to his lips as he said, “Yeah, I am.” And then he did a double-take. He’d just _met_ this girl, and it didn’t seem like Trinian Nesher to pass along noble gossip. “Sorry, who–how do you _know_ that?”

“Oh, come on, Alsendur. I may not be a noble, but I do know my basic facts.”

“Basic facts?” he repeated. His relationship with Geth didn’t strike Alsendur as a _basic fact_. 

“Sure. Your House trades in harps and silver,” she rattled off. “Your villa is in the North Ward. House Majarra pays homage to Oghma and Milil and has five scions of our generation. You have royal lineage, and–”

“You know about that?”

Elena laughed again. “I _told_ you. The basic facts. You have your royal shield on your villa gates. There’s a crown on it, Alsendur. It’s not _subtle_.”

“Right,” he said, “but the kingdom doesn’t even _exist_ anymore. It’s literally ancient history. It’s not like I’m a prince.”

“Well, I’m not a princess. So we have that in common.” She smiled, and his heart began to race. She was _gorgeous_ when she smiled. Not like Geth, but… too different from Geth to even compare. Less magnetic sunlight and more a soft inner light that radiated out. Elena shrugged and then explained, “I’m not a know-it-all or some sad sap obsessed with noble factoids. I was forced to learn all this–my father flipped when I started seeing Trinian and insisted I master the _who’s-who_. He doesn’t want me embarrassing myself mixing up Brokengulf with Brossfeather or some other awful faux pas.”

“Sounds dreadful,” he granted. “But you don’t think springing all that on an unsuspecting noble and demanding to know the personal struggles of someone you just met isn’t an _awful faux pas_?”

Elena burst out into laughter and then nodded. “All right, fair enough. My apologies. You don’t have to tell me whatever lover’s quarrel has you looking gloomy.”

“It’s not a quarrel,” he lied. “I just sometimes need time alone, and Geth doesn’t. And I like music. That’s all.”

“Uh huh.” She took a sip of her drink, leaving a silence between them, as if he might embellish beyond _that’s all_. “And what did you think of this music?”

“It’s… sufficient,” he said, failing to find a nicer term.

“Glowing review.”

“Well, I mean, all music is good, if someone’s enjoying it, but if you mean _technically_ …”

“No, no, I agree,” she said.

“Are you a musician yourself?”

Elena shook her head. “I play the flute, but… it’s beyond amateur. I appreciate music more than I play it.”

“I see.”

“My real passion is the theatre.”

“The theatre? Any type in particular? Opera? Comedy?”

She lit up. “All of it. The stage lets you reflect the world back to it, exposing its virtues and vices. It lets people see themselves in a way they never would otherwise–and even though everyone knows the stage is there, you can transport them to any world, any time. There’s something magical about that, isn’t there?”

Alsendur tried his best to avoid scrunching his nose–after all, the world wasn’t created through _acting_ , but through _song_ –but she had a point. “I guess I hadn’t thought much about it. But… yeah, I guess so. Would you want to _be_ an actor?”

“If _only_ ,” she sighed. “My father thinks acting is a profession _beneath our station_.” She rolled her eyes. “So instead I’m here, getting drunk on a farm that smells of manure, because _that’s_ apparently perfectly fine.”

Alsendur laughed into his glass. “Maybe your father should come to our next gala. Or you can just compete yourself in next year’s Gathering of the Harps–nobles do all the time. I’d love to see him try to tell someone of House Majarra that _that_ stage is too lowly.”

Elena beamed. “Oh, _please_ ,” she said. “He’s a terrible social climber, so I’m sure he’d fall all over himself trying to take back everything he’s said.”

“You think social climbing is terrible?”

She shrugged. “I think changing yourself for other people is terrible.”

“But you want to be an actor.”

“Oh, you know what I mean. If someone can’t respect you being yourself–or the best version of yourself–are they someone whose respect even matters?” She shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

“No, I suppose not.” He couldn’t speak with much authority on the topic of social climbing without sounding like an ass, so he accepted whatever she wanted to say about it. “Granted, my family would probably ask why you aren’t trying to become a bard instead of settling for just acting. If you can sing and play flute, _and_ act, and you’re such a charming conversationalist…”

She shook her head. “Thank you for the compliment, but… No, that’s not my sort of life. I mean no offense to you or your family, but…”

He raised an eyebrow. “But?”

“Bards don’t… settle down very well, do they?”

Alsendur laughed. “Vera always says _no one wants to marry a bard_ –is that what you mean?”

She nodded, adding a shrug of one shoulder as if in apology.

“Well, _I’m_ training to be a bard, and I expect to marry someday _._ ”

Pink tinged her cheeks and she burst into nervous laughter. “Oh, of course you are! Ilmater have mercy!” She hid her face in her hands as she laughed. “I’m such a fool. A Majarra, and you’ve been scrutinizing the band, and… Of course you’d be a bard.”

“It’s all right.”

She shook her head from behind her hands, but then lowered them enough that her pale eyes shone out. “You’re sure?”

He nodded. It wasn’t that big a deal–but then, he didn’t have an overbearing father breathing down his neck warning about embarrassing him in front of his betters.

Elena dropped her hands and gave him a puzzled look. “So you’re saying that _Geth Melshimber_ is fine with you being a bard and… _adventuring_?”

“I mean, not that it’s your business, but… yes.”

Her defined eyebrows raised in surprise. “So you managed to find someone gorgeous, wealthy, charming, _and_ content to let you go off on adventures and seduce dragons or whatever it is bards do? You’re either insanely lucky or he’s insanely in love with you.”

“Both, I think,” he said, smiling at the thought of it. 

He scanned across the room once more. Geth wasn’t in the same crowds as before–or any other… But there, outside the window, golden curls whipped in the autumn wind. 

He was alone. That wasn’t right. 

“Elena,” Sen started, before dragging his attention back from the window. “It’s been a pleasure, but would you excuse me?”

“Of course,” she said. “Say, maybe you and Geth would like to join me and Trinian for a show sometime? The only benefit to my father’s idiocy is that he’s tried to console me by dropping his gold into season tickets and the best seats possible.”

“Maybe, yeah,” Alsendur agreed, standing up. “I’m not sure Geth and Trinian get along terribly well, but… I can see what I can do to make it work. It sounds delightful.”

Elena smiled and stood, holding out her hand. “Yes, do. It would be nice to see you again.”

“Likewise.” Alsendur took her hand and bowed his head. “Enjoy the wine and smell of manure, Miss Riverlight.”

She laughed as he turned and left, heading for the door to the lawn. It was strange to think that someone as pleasant and interesting as Elena Riverlight had been living in Waterdeep all this while, and he’d never met her simply because her family didn’t have a noble title. Had he really been _that_ sheltered all this time?

The doors opened and he stepped outside to find Geth leaning against the wall, staring out at the stars as he poured back a glass of _zzar_.

“Finally had your fill of the commoners, huh?” Geth asked as Alsendur approached.

Alsendur gritted his teeth. Of course Geth wasn’t going to make this easy. He exhaled slowly, said a quick prayer to Sune for luck with his beloved, and reached out to touch Geth’s chin. Geth turned his head and looked up with a question in his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Sen said. “You were right about Nico.”

Geth grunted.

“I don’t want to be with anyone else. I’m lucky to be with you.”

That softened Geth’s expression. “Yeah, you are,” he agreed, breaking into a sly grin.

Alsendur pressed his lips to Geth’s forehead, and Geth took the opportunity to nose into Sen’s neck and trail his lips along the narrow band between Alsendur’s collar and his jaw. Sen leaned back against the wall, craning his neck until Geth’s lips brushed against his ear and the world spun around them.

“I don’t want to fight,” he said.

“We’re not fighting,” Geth muttered in between kisses.

“I know, but–I don’t think–”

His words were cut off by Geth’s lips, and he found himself pressed into the cool stone wall of the farmhouse, losing himself in the almost-but-not-quite-right taste of wines that weren’t Melshimber Manycherries. Geth’s kiss was a little sloppy–too many glasses of whatever it was–but it didn’t matter. It was still perfect. _He_ was perfect.

“I’m going to go down on you,” Geth whispered, while his hand traveled down until Alsendur gasped for air. “If that’s all right.”

“Sweet Sune, yes,” Alsendur sighed.

Geth didn’t waste a second before dropping to his knees, but as soon as the night air hit Sen’s bare skin, he groaned, more with frustration than pleasure. 

“Wait, no,” he said, pushing Geth away. “Not now.”

Geth’s eyebrows knit together in disappointment under his disheveled curls as he looked up. “Why not?”

“You’ve been drinking,” Alsendur noted, taking his hand and pulling him up. 

“I’m _always_ drinking, Sen.”

Sen rolled his eyes. It was true–which was maybe concerning on some level–but Geth usually hadn’t had quite _this_ much to drink. 

“You’re _drunk_.” It wasn’t fun to say, but Alsendur didn’t want to mince his words. 

“Am _not_. Though if I were, it’d be because you took your _sweet_ time coming to find me to apologize.”

“Maybe it’s my fault, but you _are_ drunk, and I’m not. I want _you_. I don’t want you regretting it when someone sees us.”

“When someone sees us?” Geth huffed dramatically and spun an imbalanced circle with his hands wide, undermining his claim of sobriety. “The whole point of being in this horseshit town is that no one’s here to _babysit_ , Sen. That’s why Vera threw this stupid party. Because there’s nothing here! No one! We can do _whatever_ we want!”

Alsendur looked around at the _nothing_ surrounding them. The stars glittered against the deep blue sky that stretched before them, and everything was so quiet and still, though the band struck up again, muffled through the walls. “Just sober up a little first. We’ll go back in for an hour, and then–”

“I don’t _want_ to go back in,” Geth whined.

“Then we’ll stay here.” He took Geth’s hand and nodded out to the blanket of sky. “You and me, and a sky full of stars. It’s nice.”

Geth looked out and leaned his head on Sen’s shoulder. “Yeah, it’s nice,” he conceded. “Not as nice as getting in your pants, but it’ll do.”

Alsendur rested his own head on the top of Geth’s. They stood there in the quiet for a minute, the small sounds of the country night chirping out from the night with an occasional autumn wind blowing through and rustling the grass and their hair and party clothes.

“I know you think I’m being a terrible snob, Sen,” Geth said, breaking the silence, “but you _have_ to be careful with those brightcoin types. I’m not trying to be jealous. I’m trying to protect you.” Geth turned and looked up, meeting Alsendur’s eyes with a gravely serious expression. “They’re leeches.”

“They aren’t _leeches_ , Geth. They’re humans.”

Geth scoffed. “Listen, I’m sure some poor people are very upstanding and honest, but not _those_ people in there. They have all the flaws of power and privilege that we have, but without any of our sense of responsibility or humility.”

“Humility?” Alsendur barked out a laugh. Whatever Geth’s virtues were, _humility_ was not on the list. Responsibility probably wasn’t either.

Geth cast a dark look at him. “Yes, _humility_! I know perfectly well that I didn’t do jack-all to earn my place in society,” he said, flinging his hands around in unnecessarily broad gesticulations. “I was born into it, and I thank the gods for it, and I grew up–like you did–with all those lectures about Siamorphe and the divine right of the nobility and our divine responsibilities to take care of those beneath us.”

“And people like Nico didn’t.” 

People like Elena.

“No, they didn’t,” Geth said. “In brightcoin eyes, every last shard of copper they have was _their_ doing, totally deserved, and they don’t owe anyone anything. But how do you think they got to where they are?”

“Business?”

He spun on Alsendur and poked his finger into his chest. “Greed,” he said. “Ruthless ambition. Stepping on everyone they could to get their leg up. And the _one_ thing they can’t buy their way or bully their way into is the nobility–not anymore, at least. So what do they do? Go after noble blood. Marry their way in. _Leeches_.” Geth’s eyes flickered with fury.

“You don’t need to worry about _me_ ,” he said, wrapping his arms around Geth’s waist. “You really think _anyone’s_ going to steal me from you? Much less get me to agree to _marry_ them? Gods above, Geth. You must be even more drunk than I thought.”

Geth looked up at Alsendur again and laughed. “Well, that’s the fucking truth. But it’s not just marriage. It’s friendship, or any… association… with people like us that raises their status. You’re a good _person_ , Sen. I don’t want you to think that someone cares about _you_ when they just care about _who you are_.” 

What Geth said _did_ match the general understanding of brightcoin merchants that he’d encountered–but Elena hadn’t been like that at all. Even if she were dating Trinian Nesher.

“I’m sure you’re right about some of them,” Alsendur granted. “Maybe the ones who rose like that themselves. But that has nothing to do with their children. We aren’t our parents.”

“No, thank the gods,” Geth muttered, staring off into the field. He sighed and stepped away from the wall, starting towards the doors of the country estate.

“Geth? What’re you doing?”

“Hello-o?” Geth called out. Two servants at the door looked over with confused expressions. “Yes, you! Get my carriage and my valet. Yes, go on!”

And then he stopped, turned back. “Come back with me?” he asked. “To the city. You can stay over, of course.”

“I thought we were staying here at Vera’s.”

Geth scrunched his nose and drew back up to Alsendur, grabbing his hands. “We were. But I want to go _home_. And I’d _like_ to go home with you. It’s a long ride back, and I know it’s already late, but… if you’re with me, that’s not so bad.”

A quiet carriage ride home with Geth was better than returning to any party. Better by a mile, even if all it was was the two of them groggily passing out against each other on the carriage bench, a blanket of fur cloaking them from the autumn chill.

“All right, let’s go,” Sen said. 

“You don’t mind leaving Vera and Adrienne? And your new brightcoin friends?”

“Gods, no. I’m ready to go home. I’ve been ready. And by the time we get back to town, you’ll be a little more sober, and we can forget this whole night. Forget Nico and this stupid fight and stupid Amphail and all of it.”

Geth smiled. “Already forgotten.”


	16. Marpenoth (October) 1489

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geth discovers something life-changing about himself and they begin to mark a year of dating.

THE SONG OF CREATION

2 Marpenoth 1489

_Con Bravura_

“All right,” Great-Aunt Jhess said. “Now, _listen_.”

“I’m listening,” Alsendur said.

“You’re not listening if you’re saying _I’m listening_.”

He rolled his eyes and then let them close, blocking out his sight. He was listening now. To the rustle in the leaves, the chirp of the cicada, the rattle of a carriage along the street, the crackle of the fire, the sound of his own breath. It all settled together into a rhythm and harmony.

“Do you hear it?”

He nodded. He’d finally managed to hear what she’d been pointing him to, and that now came easily enough. It was the next step that he couldn’t get.

“Remember what we talked about before.”

He took another deep breath and hummed quietly, trying to match the pitch that he could hear, though it wasn’t quite possible to _match_. And then he summoned all his willpower to snuff out the little candle flame between them. Go out, go out, go out, he pled.

He snapped his fingers as he opened his mouth into a sharp round sound, but felt nothing. He dared open his eyes.

The flame danced in front of him, mocking him.

He sighed, huffing out air so strongly that _now_ the flame went out.

Jhess groaned and pinched her nose.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“No,” she said. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how to teach this, Sen. It’s like teaching someone to _breathe_.”

“How did you learn?”

“How did I learn _prestidigitation_?” She shook her head. “I don’t know. I just did it.”

Alsendur raised an eyebrow. “You’re not a _sorcerer_.”

“No, thank the gods for that.” She tapped her fingers on her lips and then said, “Try again.”

“But–”

“Try _again_ , Sen. I can’t figure out how to teach you if I can’t figure out why you can’t do it already.”

Already. Like he was _behind_. The word smarted and rang in his head as he tried once more to listen. _Already_. 

“You can’t even be a student at New Olamn until you’re seventeen,” he noted. “And those students don’t reach the first level until the end of their first year.”

“You _are_ seventeen, Sen. And you can’t be a student at New Olamn without casting prestidigitation first. If you want to go there–”

“I do.”

“Then you need to get this. I’m not going to vouch for my great-nephew if he isn’t ready. It would waste their time and ruin my reputation.”

“I wouldn’t go until the end of next Season anyway. After my debut.”

“Of course not. So we have plenty of time to make sure you can hit the ground running. It’s not like you’ll be practicing much once you debut, and you’ll be away all winter.”

Alsendur groaned. She was right–if he wanted to get in, he needed to figure out a cantrip or two. And his best chance at that was with her help.

She spoke the word and snapped, lighting the candle once more. “Listen again.”

He nodded and dutifully closed his eyes once more. The cicadas, the whistling leaves, the hum of the earth, the beating of his heart, the slow exhalation of his breath, the–

“Sen!” Geth’s voice came this time, cheerful and loud, cutting across the other sounds of the autumn city.

“Fuck,” he muttered, though when he turned, he did so with a smile to greet Geth. He didn’t get up, though; he stayed cross-legged on the bench and closed his eyes again as he said, “You’re early.” 

Geth’s warm lips touched his cheekbone, and then his cheek, then the corner of his lips in rapid succession. Alsendur squirmed, aware of his great-aunt’s eyes on them, but as Geth then stole a proper kiss, he softened and craned his neck to get closer.

“Are you a monk now?” Geth asked. “What are you doing?”

“Magic.” Alsendur blinked his eyes open to see Geth smiling down at him, sunlight dancing in his hair and lighting it aflame. “Trying, at least.”

Jhess cleared her throat. “We _were_ doing magic,” she said. “ _Now_ we are incredibly distracted.”

Geth stood straight and turned to her. “Lady Jhess, my apologies,” he said, with a flourish and bow.

“Mm.”

“By all means, carry on,” he said. “I’ll just take a seat here. You won’t even notice me.”

He said that, but Alsendur’s eyes followed him as he walked about six feet to an aisle and then took a seat one row back. Geth flashed an encouraging smile and gestured for Alsendur to continue.

“Okay,” Alsendur said. “Trying again.”

He stilled himself, listening again. Of course, prestidigitation was supposed to be a cantrip, a mindless little spell that didn’t require monk-like centering meditation. If he couldn’t cast it with all of this help, he’d probably never be able to.

But he was learning. Like when he would listen to a minstrel play a song night after night in a tavern until he was able to learn it himself. That was all.

As he took a deep breath again, the harmonies around him seemed to hum, and he tried to find the note to sing along once more. He found it, sang the word and snapped, and–

The flame still danced, defiantly.

“Why don’t you try to teach little Melshimber here?” Jhess suggested. “Sometimes the best way to learn is to teach.”

Alsendur sighed, but he turned to Geth and started to explain. “So… we’re trying to join in the Song of Creation.”

“Uh huh.”

“You need to listen for it first. Listen the sounds around you, but listen _deeper_ than that.”

Geth closed his eyes. “It’s very noisy,” he said. He opened his eyes again. “Are you sure this will help you? Because I don’t think I’m going to hear the song of the universe or whatever–”

“Here,” Alsendur said, pushing his lyre into Geth’s hands. “Play a string. Or… play these three.” He pointed to the first, third, and fifth strings.

Geth played them, but the sound died under his fingers.

“Open and clear,” Alsendur said. “Like we’ve practiced on your lute.”

He tried again, and the chord rang out this time, bouncing off the surrounding walls and sculptures that had been artfully arranged to improve the acoustics of the outdoor theatre in the courtyard of Majarra Villa.

“The sounds resonate, even after you played them,” Alsendur explained. “If you listen carefully, you can hear all the other notes that build on top of them. Try it again. Listen.”

Geth did. He perked his ear up, listening, and then nodded. “Okay. I think I hear it.”

“That’s what you’re listening for. But in… the world. Everywhere.” It sounded foolish when put like that, but then, it was magic. There was a reason not everyone could do it.

But Geth nodded as if he understood, closed his eyes, and plucked the strings that Alsendur had suggested once more. He inhaled slowly, listening, and then opened his eyes. “Like a kind of… _glow_?” he asked. “Not that sounds can glow, but… it does, right?”

Alsendur beamed. “Yes, exactly. So _then_ we try to… join that Song. Or sing a part of it ourselves. Prestidigitation is just the… smallest little part of the Song. You focus it on some effect, turning that reverberation into something we can see or feel or hear.”

“I love you,” Geth said, out of nowhere, sending Alsendur to blush furiously.

Sen turned his attention back to his great-aunt. He couldn’t lose focus on this lesson. 

“Maybe I need to get out of the city,” he said. “See the world. Like you did. I just go from villa to villa, play cards, gossip… that’s not real life experience.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Geth looking between him and his aunt and slipping into a frown.

“Lady Jhess,” Geth jumped in, “would you do the spell again? Maybe I can… see the difference, between what Sen’s doing and how you do it.”

Her mouth twisted into a little smile, and she repeated the spell, snuffing the flame, and then once more, lighting it again, and then a third time, causing a tinkling of notes to ring like a far-off wind-chime.

Geth studied her all the while, and finally turned to Alsendur and said, “She’s much more _natural_ about it.”

“Yes, Geth, she’s been doing it for _decades_.”

“No, not like that, like…” Geth bit his lip, thinking it over. “You’re holding back, or something. Like you’re worried about interrupting. But you’re supposed to be _channeling_ the Song of Creation, right?”

Alsendur nodded. Apparently Geth had been listening to at least some of Sen’s ramblings.

“Well, you can’t sing the world into creation humbly, can you? So… Don’t be humble. Be confident.” Geth looked over at Jhess, who gave a reluctant nod of approval.

“He’s not wrong,” she said. “Though I think young Melshimber here could stand to take on _some_ humility.”

Geth smirked as Alsendur stifled a laugh.

“Okay, fine. Confident.” Alsendur rolled his shoulders back and closed his eyes again. Maybe _that_ was the problem. He opened his eyes, looked at the candle, and tried to listen again, though Geth’s presence was like a bright light shining in the darkness when you were trying to adjust your eyes to the night. He tried the word and snapping once more, and again, nothing changed.

“That wasn’t remotely what I meant,” Geth said. He shook his head and stepped forward. So much for sitting in the back and not being noticed. “Look, Sen, when you’re doing it, you’re like…” His eyebrows dropped, his lips pursed, and he looked side to side before singing out a clear note and snapping. 

“I don’t look like that.”

“A little bit, though,” Geth said, scrunching his nose. “But Lady Jhess… she doesn’t make it into a challenge. She’s in charge. There’s no contest. It’s just a flame. What’s a flame to Lady Jhess, right? She just puts on her charm, and she’s like…”

He stood a little taller, raised his chin even haughtier than usual. He closed his eyes for a second, breathing in, and then opened them as his lips curled into the suggestion of a smirk, just like Jhess wore, and then he sang the word and snapped.

And then his eyes went wide, still staring at the candle.

Only a wisp of smoke remained where the flame had been.

“What the _fuck_ ,” Alsendur swore.

“I–” Geth broke into a wide grin and shook his head. “I did that,” he said, half-question, half-declaration.

“Yes, you did.” Alsendur looked at Great-Aunt Jhess. “He did, right?”

She nodded slowly, looking Geth over. “So he did. Melshimber, has your father taught you any of this?”

Geth scoffed. “You think I have the patience to let him teach me Arcane Art?”

“No, I don’t, frankly,” Jhess said. “But I think if you can cast this cantrip without _any_ prior study, you should give a thought to whether you might want to pursue this. You clearly have the ability.”

Clearly.

As opposed to Sen.

Heat burned in Alsendur’s face. It was jealousy, he knew that. And it was stupid. He knew that too. Geth having talent didn’t take away his own potential, but to struggle so much and then have him just waltz in and do it, and practically by _accident_ …

Geth’s eyes flickered over to Alsendur and back to her. “Just beginner’s luck,” he demurred.

“I don’t think so,” she said. “You could do something with yourself, Melshimber. Maybe join Alsendur here–”

“That’s _very_ kind of you to say,” Geth said, bowing his head. “But I don’t think I’m suited for that kind of life.”

Alsendur smiled, composing himself once more. It wasn’t Geth’s fault that he was able to do something that Sen couldn’t yet do. And it wasn’t a limited resource or a competition. And yet Geth was falling over himself trying to downplay his own potential.

“Aunt Jhess, would you give us a minute?”

She waved a dismissive hand. “Take the day, Sen. I know you don’t think so, but you’ve done good work this morning.”

“But I didn’t–”

“You understand more today than you did yesterday,” she said. “And there are other cantrips we can try. Don’t _worry_. There’s been a bard in nearly every generation. Sometimes it just takes time. Like with Adrienne and responsibility, or Arveene and marriage.”

That wasn’t encouraging. Adrienne had lost her entire allowance on a bad three-dragon ante bet last week, and Arveene seemed perfectly happy to get married to the family finance records. Neither one seemed like a phase.

“If there’s a lesson about being a bard for today,” Jhess continued, “it’s to know when to stop working and enjoy yourself a little. Life isn’t all magic. It’s also entertainment, and hospitality, and learning from all the lessons life offers. You have a guest. He doesn’t want to sit here listening to me, and you aren’t going to learn anything more until you’ve… cleared your mind.”

“Is _that_ what it’s called?” Geth muttered.

Alsendur’s cheeks burned hot as Jhess chuckled to herself.

“I’m proud of your progress, Sen,” Jhess said, walking over and touching a hand to his shoulder. “You’re the reason your friend was able to do what he did. Don’t sell yourself short.”

He lit up. Maybe there was hope for him yet–that was higher praise than he’d ever gotten. 

“All praises to the Lord of Song,” she said, almost as a formality.

Alsendur nodded. “Praise him every morn,” he replied by rote.

He watched as she walked away before he turned back to Geth.

“Holy _fuck_ ,” he gasped, smiling despite his frustration, just as Geth said, “I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry?” He shook his head. “For _what_?”

“I saw your face, Sen. It was _your_ lesson, and–”

“And you did _magic_ ,” Alsendur said, breaking into a full grin. “Like, yeah, I’m jealous, but that doesn’t matter. You cast a spell!”

“Yeah, I guess I did.”

“You cast a _spell_!”

“I cast a spell,” Geth said, now smiling through the words.

Alsendur shouted out a joyful laughter, as if he’d done it himself, and then swept Geth into a fervent kiss and spun him around in a circle.

“We should go to my room,” Sen said, letting Geth’s feet touch back to ground.

Geth looked over at the candle, his eyebrows raised. “Because I snuffed out a candle? I mean, I know bards get a lot of action, but if it’s that easy, maybe I _should_ take up your aunt on her offer…”

“Oh, shut up. I meant that we should celebrate. Have someone bring us up some mistwine.”

“Before or after the mind-blowing sex that I _totally_ deserve?”

Alsendur rolled his eyes and said, “Before,” though then he thought better of it. “After. Both. Whatever.” He grabbed Geth’s hand and started dragging him toward the house. “Did you hear her? We could _both_ be bards. We could go adventuring–”

“No one wants two bards in an adventuring party,” Geth said.

“That’s because people are stupid and don’t understand the range of what bards can do. We can be in different colleges, have different specialties. I’ll go for Valor, you go for Lore.”

“But I thought you wanted to be in the College of Lore.”

Alsendur shrugged. “I’d rather keep you safe.”

“That’s sweet.” Geth caught Alsendur’s hand in his and pulled him into a kiss before they stepped back inside. As the door was opened before them and they entered the manor house, he said, “But I don’t need any of that, Sen. New Olamn is an intense place–you’ll need a refuge _from_ it, not a competitor.”

Alsendur furrowed his brow as they walked in.

“If you want to keep teaching me…” Geth continued, “then sure, I’ll pick up a couple of spells. But it’s not going to be my _life_ like it will be for you.”

“But Great-Aunt Jhess is right. If you’re _that_ talented, without _any_ practice, you could be—”

“Sen, stop.” 

He looked over with pity, and Alsendur dropped it as they started walking up the stairs. How someone could show such promise for a gift so rarely doled out and then treat it as if it were nothing… he felt a wave of indignant anger wash over him, almost worse than the jealousy.

After they reached the landing in silence, Geth halted and said, “Listen, I know you’re excited for me, and you want the best for me, and I love that. But I don’t want to steal your spotlight, and I don’t… think it would be good for us to… to be competing for the same stage.”

“Because you’d be _better_ ,” Sen said, the bitterness in his voice proving Geth’s point. 

“Maybe.” Geth’s face scrunched. "Maybe not. Not at music, that’s for sure.”

Alsendur shook off the bitterness. There was no room for that. “You can’t set something like this aside just to protect my feelings. I mean, sure, I have them, but I’d get over it. It wouldn’t break us up.”

“I know.” Geth smiled and slipped his arms around Alsendur’s waist. “And I wouldn’t give up my dreams to soothe your ego, don’t worry. But it’s not _my_ dream.”

“What’s your dream, then?”

Geth leaned into Sen, brushed his lips against his, and said, “Being with you,” before stealing another quick kiss.

“Very smooth.”

He grinned. “See? Natural bard. We both should’ve seen it coming.”

Sen opened his mouth to respond, but Geth put a finger on his lips.

“Remember what I’ve told you before–I want to be who you come home to.” His finger drifted down to Alsendur’s chin and then traced his jawline, inspecting it as he added, “And, hopefully be Master of Whispers. Those two things, that’s all.” His eyes flitted up to Sen’s.

He was checking for a reaction of some kind, like he’d broken some serious news, but it wasn’t news at all. There wasn’t anything surprising about the remark. Sen nodded and began to say, _If that’s what you want_ , but he only got through “If–” before he fell silent, finally realizing just what it was that Geth was saying.

He wanted to be a Melshimber. And to marry Alsendur. And together, those meant a third thing: he wanted Sen to become a Melshimber.

Alsendur’s stomach dropped. He swallowed. Nodded. “I want you to have those things,” he said.

Geth smiled. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Alsendur swallowed over his tightening throat. This is why marriage was such a bad idea. Geth was happy enough to give up his freedom, but he wanted Alsendur to give up his freedom _and_ his House. His name. His identity. If they could just be together without marriage in the way… “We’ll make it work. Somehow.”

“Somehow,” Geth echoed.

Alsendur nodded. “Sure,” he said, taking Geth by the arm and pressing ahead to his room. He had no idea how, but that was a problem for another day. “Will you tell your parents? About the cantrip, I mean?”

Geth waggled his head back and forth, considering the question. “Maybe,” he said. “Though I don’t need Father starting back up on trying to get me to study magic. Wizards are _so_ boring, Sen. You can’t even _imagine_.”

“There you have it, then. You can learn a few spells to help him out, but as a bard. He can’t really complain, can he?”

“He’d find a way, I’m sure. But…” Geth squinted. “The Harpers are all bards, aren’t they?”

“Not _all_ , but–”

“But clearly bards’ magic is helpful for that sort of thing.”

“What sort of thing? Getting information?”

“Yes, that.”

Alsendur looked askance. The idea that Geth would use Harper tactics to advance his family’s information brokering didn’t sit well with him. It wasn’t like the Harpers had a monopoly on what they did, but if Sen were going to be one someday…

“Sen?”

“Sure, of course,” he said, wary of opening an entire argument. “I mean, you could learn Disguise Self, Illusory Script, Message, Unseen Servant, maybe…”

Geth waved a hand. “That’s more than enough. What about this: _you_ go to New Olamn, do all the hard work, and then you can teach me like… half of what you know. I don’t need the fancy degree and the standing in the College of Lore or any of that. Just a few spells that I learn from a good teacher.”

Sen looked him over as they walked. Geth was clearly more interested than he was letting on. And Geth was probably right. Going after the same goal would put them in competition, however implicitly, and Alsendur couldn’t pretend his jealousy wouldn’t get the better of him if Geth started being able to cast actual spells while he was still figuring out a basic cantrip.

“It’s a deal,” Sen said. “But it won’t be another year before I go.”

“That’s all right.”

“And classes meet in winter, so–”

“It’ll be fine.”

“It will?”

Geth took Sen’s hand and opened the door. “Forget about that right now. You promised me a celebration. So let’s celebrate.”

* * *

ONE YEAR, PART ONE

30 Marpenoth 1489

_ Facile _

Alsendur made his way up the tall grand staircase, feeling the smooth polished wood of the railing under his fingertips as it gracefully arched to the side, feeding into the Melshimber family apartments on one side and the ballroom on the other.

He passed a servant standing in attendance outside Geth’s parents’ rooms and nodded in acknowledgement and then wound around the hallway that took him to the stairs up to the floor where Geth and Tasheene had settled into their own full apartments after Tasheene came of age. They were intended for adult couples–adult heirs with their own families or grandparents or siblings of the matriarch or heir, like Sen’s father was. But Andraethra’s only siblings lived outside of Waterdeep, and her mother had elected to take up a smaller suite on the second floor–fewer stairs for old knees–before retiring to the vineyards this Season.

Finally, Sen found himself at the door to Geth’s rooms, and just before he could knock, Geth opened the door to greet him. He took Alsendur’s hand and pulled him into the sitting room, dragging him closer and then looking up with eager eyes.

“Happy almost-anniversary,” Geth said.

Alsendur broke into a wide smile. “You only remember because it’s Liar’s Night.”

He grinned. “Maybe, maybe not. You’ll never know.”

Not that Sen could find much fault in that. He only remembered the milestone himself three days ago, when Gav looked up from practicing his harp sonata (he never _did_ take it very seriously) and said, “Sen, did you realize you and Geth have been together almost _a whole year_?” Alsendur had not: somehow, he was sure they’d been together so much longer than that, but somehow also that it had just started. As Gav was quick to point out, a year was a long time. Young nobles had the threat of the future hanging over their head: not just a future that demanded they get married, but a future that demanded that they continue dealing cordially with the same small circles of people for their rest of their natural lives. If a partnership wasn’t meant to last, better to see that quickly and go separate ways on good terms without wasting one another’s time. No need to throw your polished dragons into mud, the saying went.

“We don’t need to do anything special,” Alsendur said, and then caught himself. “Unless you already had something planned…”

“I didn’t, actually. Except…”

Alsendur waited, until Geth broke into a smile and dragged him back into his bedroom–but then oddly past his bed and into the dressing room.

He pointed at Alsendur’s two overnight bags, which one of the servants had taken at his arrival, presumably to bring to up to blue-wallpapered guest room on the South side of the third floor where he always stayed.

“I _did_ convince my parents that it’s entirely excessive for you to stay in separate rooms.”

“I’m allowed to stay in your room?”

The last time their parents had let them stay in the same bedroom was a year ago–just before they’d started dating. 

He’d stayed over at Melshimber Villa enough that he almost considered the cozy blue room with the little single bed _his_ –and the servants seemed to as well, referring to it as such and apologizing when an abundance of guests had required them to set someone else up in it. A small part of him was reluctant to give that up—his own little home away from home—but he never actually slept in it anyway. All this meant was less tiptoeing around, ignoring the heavy certainty that someone somehow was definitely watching him break the rules his hosts had given. Not that they’d ever said anything.

Not that they would. The Melshimbers never seemed to actually mind their children breaking the rules, as long as they were quiet about it.

“Happy anniversary,” Geth declared, holding out his arms toward the bags. “And happy… I’m eighteen and tired of bullshit rules that don’t make sense anyway.”

Alsendur laughed and threw his arms around Geth, picking him up for a second and then thanking him with a kiss. Geth returned it with enthusiasm, and soon they were stumbling back into the bedroom. Alsendur’s legs hit the edge of the bed and he turned around, lifting Geth off his feet and then tossing him onto the bed.

“How long do we have before Vera and Drie get here?” Geth asked, working double-time to unfasten his belt and scoot his legs free of his fitted trousers. His underwear clung around his form, and Alsendur lost himself taking in the details–every shadow and crease, the shape of his thighs, the inviting little trail of hair that peeked out from the hem of his shirt. 

“Sen? Hello?”

Alsendur shook his head, half in answer and half to remember the question. “Oh, um. A half hour, maybe? Unless they get sidetracked…”

“Here’s hoping,” Geth said, grabbing Alsendur’s hand and tugging him closer. He traced his fingers around the buttons of Alsendur’s shirt, flashed a crooked smile, and asked, “Can we take this off?”

“Gods, yes,” he gasped, as if coming out of a charm. As Geth worked to unbutton his shirt, Alsendur lifted the strap to his lyre over his head and set the instrument down lightly against the nightstand. 

“You’ll play something later?” Geth asked.

He nodded. “I wrote you a song, actually. As a present.”

Geth paused his hands and looked up, beaming. “Sing it, then!”

“Now?” Alsendur looked between the lyre and Geth. There wasn’t much in the world that could tempt him away from music, but Geth half-undressed on a bed in front of him was definitely one of them. “I don’t know...” he hedged.

“It’s _my_ present, isn’t it? I want to hear it.”

“It’s _part_ of your present. We _were_ working on the other part.”

Geth barked out a laugh and sat up. “We can do both.”

“No, not at the same time,” Alsendur countered. Geth grinned, clearly about to take the challenge, but Sen added, “I was going to play it _tomorrow_. Of course, it was supposed to be a surprise…”

“Well, it’s a surprise _now_. Come on, play it.”

Sen looked back at his lyre again and made a face like he’d been asked to choose between air and water. He _did_ want to share it. It had been bouncing around in his head all week, and it had already been taking all his willpower not to hum it absent-mindedly. And yet…

“Nope,” Alsendur said.

“What!”

“Adrienne and Vera are going to be here within the hour,” he said, undoing the last buttons and pulling off his shirt. “I can play lyre while there here. But I can’t do this–” He knelt on the plush rug and slipped his hand between Geth’s thigh and his underwear and then tugged it down.

“Point taken,” Geth said. “All right, I’m not going to protest.”

“Well, good,” Alsendur said, leaning forward and resting his chin on Geth’s leg. “And anyway,” he added, “the meter’s off in a few places and I couldn’t get the bridge quite right, so I need a little more time.”

Geth burst into laughter and knocked a knee into Sen’s shoulder. “You complete _bastard_ ,” he said, grinning through the insult. “I swear, if you could fuck a song, you’d do it. And here I thought you _wanted_ me.”

“I do!” Alsendur protested. “That’s why I’m _here_. I could’ve worked on it at home, but I thought you’d be pretty pissed if I showed up an hour late, after Adrienne and Vera already got here…”

“You thought right,” Geth said. “As long as you aren’t going to spend the whole time we’re up here lost in your thoughts trying to _fix the bridge_.”

Alsendur flushed hot. “I wouldn’t! I was going to work on it tonight after I was sent off to my room…”

“But now you won’t be,” Geth finished.

He nodded.

“Well, if you need to slip out to go pluck about on your lyre, you can. I’m sure I’ll drink enough to pass out, and then you can have the sitting room to yourself, or you can let yourself into your old room and use it–”

“That’s all right,” Sen interrupted. “I’d rather be with you.”

Geth brightened, leaned forward, and caught Alsendur in a kiss. “Good answer. But I still want to hear that song.”

“Tomorrow,” Alsendur said. “I promise.”


	17. Uktar (November) 1489

ONE YEAR

1 Uktar 1489

_ Facile _

Muscle memory jolted Geth awake as his body began to shake off the effects of the wine and the earliest birds of morning began to chirp. He reached over to shake Sen and send him back to the guest room before the servants came around, and then he remembered the deal he’d struck with his mother, and he curled back onto his side, dragging Sen’s heavy arm around him.

It had been a good night–Liar’s Night usually was, despite all of Sen’s protests and whinging. He’d tried to talk Vera into dating women, for her own sake, given her ill luck with Osvaldo (and hey, if he could poach the darling of their generation and the jewel of House Amcathra to marry his sister and join House Melshimber, all the better). It hadn’t worked–she said she and Adrienne had _tried that out_ and it did nothing, as if that were proof enough of anything. He’d tried to point out that she’d probably feel the same way about Alsendur, but she demurred, and Alsendur had blushed hard enough that red shone through his dusky cheeks, and it had all been delightfully awkward.

And he’d learned a lot: the Roaringhorns were hosting a hunting party in Amphail in a week, and Algavain was single once again, and no one, not even Vera, had heard from Osvaldo since he left for his studies (the absolute _prick_ ), and Trinian Nesher had finally broken up with the commoner he was dating in favor of Kassivi Thongolir (though given the Thongolirs’ reputation, which was worse?), and Olga Kothont and Ingmir Artemel had made poor Sivi Cragsmere cry over something that he’d need to remember, and there were at least a dozen other tidbits that were currently lost in the blur of wine and sleep. They’d become clear by morning, or at least before brunch, when his mother would demand full reports.

At the night’s end, he and Sen had dragged themselves up to his rooms and passed out here, sprawled across the bed, too tired to do much other than get their boots off and gather the covers over them.

Geth nestled back into the pillow, taking in this feeling: Sen was here, and his, and he didn’t need to go anywhere. And the morning would come and mark a full year together, even if it felt like it had been so much longer. He tightened his grip around Sen’s arm, well-toned from so many hours on the harp. Sen, jostled by the adjustment, groaned a little in his sleep and then pulled Geth closer in against the spoon of his body.

Geth’s hips pressed back against Sen, but he didn’t seek out more, and instead let the softness of the night fall over them. Fully contented and still a little buzzed, Geth drifted back off to sleep.

He woke up the next morning to the sound of plucked strings. He smiled, eyes still closed, still facing away, and lay there for a minute, letting Sen play.

It was hard to believe Sen had only started playing lyre a year or so ago, much less that there was a time before he had this particular instrument. Sometimes it seemed as if Sen was still trying to find ways to thank him, writing him song after song, but there wasn’t a moment Geth had second-guessed buying it. He would’ve paid ten times what he did for Sen to be this happy, this comfortable.

All the same, he wasn’t turning down the songs Sen kept composing for him. It wasn’t just the couple of minutes of the performance, or even later on, when he would find himself humming a tune that was written _for him_. It was knowing that each riff and line and chord came from Sen pouring himself into the music, adjusting and perfecting and practicing, probably for hours. Hours that Sen had spent thinking about Geth. _Loving_ him.

And loving him for his own sake, not for how he fit into whatever schemes or plans he had, or because he was rich or from an important family, or because he was funny, or because he had access to gossip or endless crates of wine.

How many people could he say that about? Anyone? Even Tasha’s love was half borne out of duty and ambition. Sen, though, would probably still love him even if he lost everything.

After a few repetitions of whatever the melody was, Geth turned over and slid a hand along Sen’s leg. “Is this your song for me?” he mumbled.

Sen nodded and then lowered the lyre enough to lean over and greet Geth with a kiss. “Good morning,” he said. “It is.”

Geth pushed himself halfway up, leaning back against the fluffed pillows, and looked expectantly at Sen. “I didn’t get you anything,” he admitted. “And I can’t write songs. So you’ll have to tell me what you want.”

Sen shook his head. “I don’t need anything.”

“I didn’t say _need_.”

“ _You’re_ what I want,” Sen said, starting to slowly find the notes he was playing again. He looked down as he talked, like making eye contact would make it more difficult to say whatever was on his mind. “Just a day without friends or sisters or parents barging in or people looking us over and taking bets on our future or anyone interrupting us. I know _you_ love the attention, but it makes me want to just… run off with you somewhere where no one knows us and we can just be _us_. I just want to think about you, and nothing else.”

“Well, I’m not sure me letting you give me your undivided attention is really a _gift_ ,” Geth said, laughing, “but if you want a day here, just the two of us… sure. I can do that. But you have to play me your song first. Even if it’s not perfect.”

“It’s not anywhere near perfect,” Sen said, sighing. “But okay.”

He plucked each string of the lyre one by one, letting each ring out and tuning it to his ear. And then started to play, fingers dancing across the strings and drawing out layers of sound in a way that made it seem like so much more complex than simple arched wood and seven strings. 

Sen had been humming a melody over the lyre, and then he sang:

> _Do you remember being six years old,  
> _ _Waiting to greet the dawn,  
> _ _Flowers braided in our hair,  
> _ _Running across the courtyard lawn._
> 
> _You said, “I’m gonna marry him,” and our mothers laughed and cooed.  
> _ _Because it’s always been you and me, you and me, and me and you._
> 
> _Do you remember being nine years old,  
> _ _Exploring secret rooms,  
> _ _Every box, a treasure chest,  
> _ _Each shadow bringing certain doom._
> 
> _I said, “Don’t fear–I’ll keep you safe,” and that was always what I’d do,  
> _ _Because it’s always been you and me, you and me, and me and you._
> 
> _Do you remember being twelve years old,  
> _ _In the City of the Dead?  
> _ _Rain-washed tombstones, fields of green,  
> _ _You cut your hand and bled–_
> 
> _You said, “I’ll stay by your side, and I’ll trust you through and through.”  
> _ _Because it’s always been just you and me, you and me, and me and you._
> 
> _Do you remember being sixteen years old,  
> _ _Lying on Liar’s Night?  
> _ _Bitter zzar, mirrored masks,  
> _ _Music in the fire’s light,_
> 
> _I said, “I’ve fallen hard for you,” and you kissed me, and I kissed you,  
> _ _And of all the lies we said that night, that one thing was true._
> 
> _And over this year I’ve fallen in love,  
> _ _Fallen for my best friend.  
> _ _I like you, I love you, I want you, I need you,  
> _ _And I’ll never again pretend_
> 
> _That I want anything but you and me, you and me, and me and you  
> _ _Because it’ll always be you and me, you and me, and me and you._

Sen fell silent and looked up, a little warily, like Geth would have some criticism, but Geth just grinned.

“Get over here,” he said.

The lyre fell on the bed with a jangle of sound and and Sen stretched foward, meeting Geth in his arms.

“You like it?”

“I love it.” Geth pressed his body against Sen, craning his neck to catch a kiss against his neck in appreciation. “I love _you_ ,” he clarified. “All of those memories… I’d forgotten the treasure hunts.”

“How?”

“It _was_ almost a decade ago. But you _did_ always say you’d keep me safe. And you always did. And you still do.”

“You don’t think it seems unfinished?”

Geth groaned and fell back on the bed, pulling Sen down with him. “Is this a romantic moment or one of your family’s critique sessions?”

Sen’s face began to twist into a pout. “I just want the truth, that’s all. An honest answer.”

“ _Honestly_ , I love it. It’s pretty much perfect.”

“Something can’t be _pretty much_ perfect,” Sen noted.

“Fine. It’s a little rough in parts,” he admitted. “Just, the meter, like you said. And it could use a bridge.”

It was a little unreasonable to _say_ your song was rough and then sulk when someone agreed, but Geth was well beyond expecting Sen’s emotions to follow anything like the rules of reason.

Geth shook his head and pressed a finger to his lips.

“But I _said_ I loved it,” he noted, looking up into Sen’s twilight-blue eyes. “And anyway,” he added, his lips curling into a smirk, “I _like_ things a little rough.”

He demonstrated, catching Sen’s ear in his teeth, and then Sen’s little pity-party was over and forgotten and he was clutching Geth’s shirt in his hand, drawing him into a kiss. Because for all his dramatics and wildly fluctuating emotions, Sen’s bouts of wounded self-pity or self-righteous anger never lasted that long–at least not if there was song or sex to pull him out of sulking and into pleasure.

And however imperfect the song was, the chorus bounced around in Geth’s head– _It’s always been you and me, you and me, and me and you_ … And it had been. And it always would be.

* * *

ARRANGEMENTS

17 Uktar 1489

_ Attacca _

“Geth, well met!”

“Lady Majarra,” Geth said, bowing his head. “You look well.”

“Flattery,” she said, laughing. “Will you be joining us this evening?”

“If I’m welcome.” He flashed a smile.

“Dear, you’re always welcome. You know that.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course. I’ll tell Sen to expect you after his lesson.” She turned back to Geth’s mother and kissed her cheek. “Be well, Andi.”

“And you, dear. Do let me know if I can help.”

Noreeve Majarra smiled, but said nothing more, and then left.

As soon as the heavy door shut in the hall, Geth turned to his mother. “Help with what?”

“Don’t be nosy.”

Geth raised an eyebrow. The first thing she had taught him in life to be was _nosy_. “That’s a joke, right?”

“Yes,” she said, with the hint of a smile. “It was. Come, follow me to your father’s study.”

He trailed behind his mother, sliding his hands into his pockets and running through what he knew already. Noreeve had three natural children and had raised Adrienne, the daughter of a black sheep good-for-nothing bard who had run off with an elf and sent his baby back to the family to raise. Noreeve had a strained relationship with her half-brother Victoro Cassalanter and a terrible one with his wife Ammalia. The Majarra fortunes weren’t what they had once been a hundred years back. Nor were the Cassalanters’, but House Cassalanter still had more gold than most noble houses. Alsendur’s mother had grown up a Cassalanter, but surprisingly chosen to take the Majarra name–and fortunes–as her own.

They stepped into the office, an imposing room of dark leather and the threat of magic. Geth could almost feel the glimmer of hostile wards that surrounded him. His mother, however, walked right up to the shelf behind his father’s desk. Hundreds of leather spines lined the shelves, but these were not tomes of history or books of spells. They were collections of all the information his family had collected about different parties–one wall of the eighty or so noble families, one wall of guilds and prominent merchants, one of important political figures in and outside of Waterdeep–all protected with glyphs of warding that would betray anyone foolish enough to touch any of the books.

His mother’s fingers danced over the second shelf from the top, seeking for the right unlabeled spine by memory.

A faint smile danced over Andraethra’s lips. “A financial matter.”

Geth’s brow furrowed. “I know Lord Medver Majarra is ill. Is House Majar–”

“Not the Majarras.” She pulled out one of the biggest volumes and set it on the desk. “Take a seat,” she said as she sat in Geth’s father’s chair and opened the cover, thumbing through the pages for whatever she was looking for. After a few seconds, she handed Geth two pages filled with charts and numbers.

His eyes scanned the figures, trying to make sense of what he was seeing.

“What does that tell you?” she asked.

“There’s… a significant increase in business since Midsummer. Four months of profit that amount to the previous four _years_ ’. What is this I’m looking at?”

“The Cassalanter records.”

Geth wiped a heavy hand over his face. The Cassalanters doing well was never good news for his family. “I thought they were struggling,” he groaned.

His mother scoffed. “They were never _struggling_. They just weren’t where they _wanted_ to be, which is at the top.”

“But they are now, aren’t they? This is…”

“They can liquidate more in a month than we can at this point. But they can’t sustain it. Now, if this pattern _continues_ , they’ll easily be the wealthiest noble family in Waterdeep.”

“Fuck,” he swore.

“Mm.”

“So shouldn’t this help Lady Majarra? Her brother supports her–”

“He _did_.”

“He’s stopped?”

Andraetha nodded once.

“How long ago?”

“He told her yesterday. Hence her distraught appearance.”

Geth hadn’t noticed any kind of distress, but if his mother had, it must have been there.

“That… makes no sense,” he said. “Doesn’t that violate some kind of terms of her marriage arrangement?”

“No, unfortunately. Her dowry covered three years’ allowance, as is customary, but given the unusual situation of Noreeve marrying into a lower House, they had an unwritten informal arrangement whereby Victoro continued to support Noreeve to the lifestyle to which she’d become accustomed and to support her children. And he’s always done so, even if the children weren’t aware. They owe a great deal of what they have to him—particularly the half-elf, Victoro being sympathetic to his own kind.”

Adrienne, she meant.

“And now he’s stopped.”

She nodded.

“Had they fought?”

Andraethra shrugged. “They had not.”

“But then… why? Why now?”

“You tell me, Geth.”

“All right.” He furrowed his brow, trying to imagine all the possibilities as she always taught. “Sen says they don’t think his grandfather will make it through the winter, but I don’t see why that would make Lord Cassalanter pull support from his sister. They… might be worried about their children’s inheritance. Osvaldo… whatever he’s doing at school, and then the twins getting older and needing schooling themselves. But if they’re bringing _in_ more money, that doesn’t make sense.”

“I agree.”

“What if they… took out a loan? Or made some other arrangement… like a purchase on credit that is going to be expensive to pay back?”

A smile grew across his mother’s face. “That’s my thought exactly. Very good, Geth.”

The Cassalanters were themselves moneylenders. The idea that they would need a loan themselves seemed absurd–unless it wasn’t a loan at all, but a bribe of some kind. “An arrangement with whom, though?” 

“Someone unsavory, no doubt,” she said.

“A corrupt guild? The Zhentarim?”

She held out a hand for the papers, which Geth returned. “I’m not sure yet. And I doubt they’ll yield that information easily.”

“No, nor let it leak easily.”

“Yes. We do have our work cut out for us. But I’m good at what I do. I’ll figure it out, in time. _We_ will.”

“Do you think Noreeve needs gold?” Geth asked. “Should we… _do_ something?”

That didn’t seem like their place to do, but he smarted at the idea that someone would cut off their own sister. If Tasheene did that to him after marrying Sen, he’d be furious. He wouldn’t be too proud to take Vera’s support, if he were in Noreeve’s shoes.

“She doesn’t want it.” Andraethra held her hands out in a helpless gesture and then folded them in front of her on the desk. “Gold from her brother she could see as her rightful inheritance. From me, it would be charity. And deep down, she’s still a Cassalanter, and no Cassalanter wants charity. They take what they are owed, and nothing more, and they pay what they owe, and nothing more.”

“What about Sen?”

“What about him?”

“You said yourself—his mother’s the one who buys him… most things. What’s going to happen?”

She shrugged. “I’m sure it’ll get swept up among the other tightening pursestrings. Especially with Lord Medver looking so ill and the silver mines faring poorly…”

That didn’t really answer his question. 

His face must have shown it, because she added, “Geth, you mustn’t speak to Sen about this.”

“But–”

“His mother won’t want him to know. It’s an issue of her family, both between her and her son and her and her brother. Melshimbers aren’t meddlers.”

“But it’s _Sen_.” Geth’s face twisted. He didn’t keep _anything_ from Sen. But his mother wouldn’t appreciate that argument.

“I don’t care that you’re friends, or you’re sleeping with him, or that you hope to marry him,” she snapped. “I do not share Noreeve’s business, Geth, even with the family, and you will _not_ make me regret making an exception for you! Understood?”

He recoiled in his chair, swallowed, and nodded in acceptance. “Understood,” he mumbled.

Though he didn’t _understand_ how it was fair for her to keep Noreeve’s business quiet. She always said that withholding information from the family left the family blind. But then, she was the Matriarch. She was the only one who needed to see the whole picture.

“Now,” she said, “what I _will_ do is increase _your_ allowance for next Season beyond what I’d planned, as I take it that you will undoubtedly extend even more generosity towards Alsendur and Adrienne than you already do?”

Geth looked down, trying to hide his embarrassment at being so pointedly seen. “Thank you,” he said, gathering his composure and looking back up. “That’s extremely gracious of you.”

“Do _not_ let them see it as charity,” she ordered.

“Of course not.” He bit his lip, holding back the question he really wanted to ask.

“What is it, Geth?”

“I’ve been seeing Sen for a year now.”

She sat back in her chair and nodded.

“I’m eighteen. And we debut this spring.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Yes.”

“I think… I’d like to know how we work out the details for marriage.”

His mother lit up. “Is Alsendur on the same page?”

He waggled his head. “He’d prefer not to talk about it until spring. But I want to know my options.”

“Your options?” She shook her head, like the question made no sense. “It’s fairly straightforward. Once you’ve been Presented and you two have agreed among yourselves that you wish to be married, I’ll meet with his family and we’ll iron out all the necessary details, while you two announce your intentions and celebrate. After we’ve all agreed on all the contractual terms, we set a date for a wedding and planning commences accordingly.”

“Anytime after the Presentation Ball?”

“Privately, yes, but best keep anyone from whispering until after your debuts. We’ve set your date for the tenth of Miurtil—”

“Are you kidding? Everyone will be hung over from the Plowing and the Running!”

“Everyone will be riding a high from how lovely Greengrass was, and you will lock that in. You’ll open the week—”

“I should _close_ the week!” he objected.

“We’ve given Vera Amcathra that privilege, seeing as the poor thing is single and you aren’t. And, well, we got plenty in return for it. Alsendur’s is two nights before Vera’s, on eighteenth.”

He blinked, processing the dates. The specificity of the dates gave the concept of his Season a new concreteness, a whisper that this was coming, this was imminent. “Okay,” he said. 

“We can discuss more precise timing for a betrothal this winter, or in the spring when we have a better view on what other Houses are planning. You don’t want news like that lost in the general humdrum. We’ll want to keep eyes on what the Ilzimmers and Amcathras may announce, so that attention falls on you and not on them. Midsummer would be best, of course, but… we’ll see.”

Geth resisted rolling his eyes. It seemed so petty, but then, he couldn’t pretend that he wouldn’t be furious if news of his engagement were displaced by news of Vera’s. Not that Vera had anyone at the moment–which meant that her debut would be all the more carefully watched.

“But the _necessary details_ and _contractual terms_ …” he echoed, waiting for elaboration.

“Matters of finance, Geth. Not anything you’d be interested in.”

He nodded slowly. Except matters of finance overlapped with other pieces that mattered a little more. “But those are affected by which House the couple chooses.”

“Excuse me?” Her eyes focused on him like she had only just seen him. “Are you trying to ask whether he joins our family or you join his?”

“Y…es?”

“Did you not follow _any_ of what I said here today?” she said, her voice sharp with impatience.

His eyes fled her incredulous stare.

“We could write you a three-year dowry, and you’d then find yourself in the exact same place as Noreeve. Is that what you want?”

He shook his head slowly. “No, but Tasheene would never–”

“One would hope not, but one never knows what a person is capable of,” she said. “If you want to _help_ the Majarras, don’t burden them with your expenses, which are, to be frank, _rather_ extraordinary, even for a noble.”

“You’ve never complained,” he noted.

“No, I haven’t, because you add value to this family. Your expenses are investments. I don’t believe the Majarras would see them in the same light.”

“I don’t–”

“Your drunken escapades gather intelligence, but don’t help sell harps,” she interrupted, eliminating any ambiguity.

“I don’t have _escapades_ ,” he argued, rolling his eyes. It was stupid–he didn’t even really want to be a Majarra anyway, but the more she pushed back on the idea, the more appeal it had.

“Regardless,” she continued, “I thought your plan had been to follow in your father’s footsteps, to be your sister’s Master of Wisdom.”

“It is, but–”

“And I’ve respected the confidentiality you keep with Alsendur with the understanding that he will be part of this family one day, have I not?”

“You have,” he reluctantly agreed.

“Well then.” She closed the Cassalanter book shut with a thud for emphasis to her point. “I think it’s very clear what your options are. If Alsendur has a shred of sense, he’ll see it just as clearly.”

Geth nodded. “But he’d need the gold…”

“Yes. And his family can afford that. They aren’t _poor_ , Geth. Not by any objective numbers. They simply aren’t surpassing everyone else–as they did a century ago.”

“Oh.” No one _had_ actually shown him objective numbers before. He had the impressions and observations from how people spoke and acted, and that was that. “But I thought you said the mines were drying up.”

“No one outside the Cassalanters and our family even _knows_ about the problems they’re having with the silver mines. If it _were_ that desperate, everyone would know. Others may suspect as much, as things proceed. But we’ve helped them keep that secret, because we take care of our own. House Majarra is loyal to us, and so we protect them. That’s how this works.”

“I see.”

She sighed and turned around, taking down another volume from a lower shelf and opening it. Pulling out the first page, she glanced down briefly and handed the sheet to him.

“If you want the objective numbers,” she said.

_House Majarra_ , it read.

_Entitled 1248 DR (in Waterdeep) – Silver, Harps – Milil_

_House Majarra, a family of Tethyrian extraction, originates from noble (from 659 DR) and royal (from 697) lineage from Delimbyr, where they were known as House Harpshield. The Majarra family have in some form been part of Waterdeep’s culture since well before the beginning of ennoblement. While their wealth stems from silver mines, their fame comes from their reputation as harp-makers, harpists, and bards, their creativity, and their sense of noblesse oblige. They are one of the five Houses of the Bardic Arts responsible for founding New Olamn College and hosting the Gathering of the Harps; they have also had unsurprising but notably close ties to the Harpers for generations, although openly they purport simply to be mere “sympathizers and supporters” of the organization. Reflecting these sympathies, they rarely grasp for power themselves but can easily make or unmake power for other noble Houses vying for the Throne._

_As of this revision (Kythorn 1489) House Majarra could raise approx. 28,000 gp in coin and valuables within a month._

_Rank B. Historically allied with House Melshimber, favored Cassalanter in recent history. Family ties with House Cassalanter should have strengthened that alliance, but House Majarra has renewed loyalties to House Melshimber, see esp. Neverember._

It then listed all the members of the main branch of the Majarra family–Sen’s grandfather, great-aunt, aunt, cousin, father, siblings, and estranged uncle.

“Twenty-eight thousand,” his mother said. He shook his head, bringing himself back to the conversation they’d been having. Royal lineage and ties to the Harpers were much more interesting than the number on the page. “For perspective, you may recall that we estimate the Cassalanters could raise fifty-four.”

“And we…?”

“Fifty.”

“But you’re saying House Majarra _isn’t_ poor.”

“Correct.”

“They only have _half_ of what we do.”

“Yes, Geth. The vast majority of noble Houses could raise somewhere between fifteen and thirty thousand.”

“So the Majarras are… the high end of normal.”

“In terms of wealth. They have much more _social_ capital.”

“Because they’re… Harpers?”

His mother’s face pinched as if she had a headache. “No, they aren’t all. Some, perhaps. Most of them are just sympathizers with the meddlers. But… if it helps you understand it, then they do have similarities. Like the Harpers, the Majarras prefer not to take power themselves, but they do like a say in who has it, which is, of course, a form of power in itself. They don’t hoard their gold, but give it freely to those whom they determine have need of it. That choice, again, is power. As such, it would be unwise to judge them solely by their material holdings and titles.”

Geth smiled. That all sounded incredibly like Sen. He was very _much_ a Majarra. And Geth loved it. But if they married, he’d be asking Sen to leave all that. To take on the Melshimber identity instead.

“The betrothal process itself will have plenty of negotiations,” she answered. “For now, you decide if this is a course you want to take, and you figure out if Alsendur wishes the same. ”

“All right,” he said. It was funny to think that he’d always been afraid that he wouldn’t _find_ anyone until he was twenty–-and then of course declare himself to Sen anyway–-but it now seemed entirely possible to be engaged within the year, and _married_ by twenty. If Sen was ready.

Though that was a big _if_.

“Now, if you don’t have other questions, I have a dinner party to get to at Lathkule Villa,” his mother said, slipping the dossier sheet back into the front of the binder. As he stood, she placed it and the Cassalanter volume back into their places.

His heart dropped a little as the Majarra spine slid back into place. What else was in there? What secrets had his father gathered about them?

“I _am_ glad you’re thinking about all this,” she continued, turning back to him. “I’d always worried that we’d end up dragging you in marriage kicking and screaming.”

Geth shrugged and stuffed his hands in his pockets. For all her savvy, she’d misread him. He’d just never _worried_ about marriage, and he hadn’t been all that determined to find someone, because it was always going to be Sen. And now he was just ahead of schedule, and if he was going to get accolades for it, he’d take them. 

“Happy to surprise you,” he said with a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some readers may find the song here familiar -- originally I had written it to be the song Sen sings to ask Geth out in 1488. I've adjusted that to be a simpler tune, reflecting a simpler style and more innocent moment. You can find that in [Chapter 5](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25267513/chapters/62092654), revised to include the new song ("Can I Tell You a Secret?").


	18. Nightal (December) 1489

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An exchange of letters

_Nightal 7_

_Sen,_

_I tried. Really. I tried so hard to just forget about you and live in the moment or whatever it is you would tell me I should do, but it’s always so quiet here, and every time we’re outside I think of how nice it would be if you were there with us, playing the lyre, and every time we sit down for dinner I think of how excited I am to catch you up on all the latest news, but it’s not the sort of thing for writing down, usually._

_I’m sure it sounds rude to say I wanted to forget about you, but this is actual torture and I don’t want to do it anymore. It’s like I’m missing part of myself._

_I don’t like it._

_Discontentedly yours,_

_Geth Melshimber_

_P.S. Send my regards to your family and my best wishes to your grandfather._

* * *

Geth put down his pen, sealed the letter, and then slumped against the desk. It would be a long winter ahead, without even so much as the prospect of visiting Sen on the shore–because Sen wasn’t at his family’s seaside home. He was in Waterdeep, which would soon be completely iced over and near impossible to get in or out of. Even letters didn’t move easily in or out once the deep winter came.

The worst of it was that Geth hadn’t even been able to ask Sen to come to the vineyards like he’d planned. He’d been so excited to, but when he’d arrived at Majarra Villa, grinning wildly and excited to invite Sen, he’d found all the Majarras blanched and red-eyed and stand-offish. Lord Medver had taken a turn for the worse. He was much too weak to travel, and the whole Majarra family was convinced he wouldn’t last the winter. So they’d all stayed behind with him. Geth would _never_ stay alone in a icy hell-hole just to watch his grandmother slowly wither into nothing, just to get a last word in. Why not say goodbye now and be done with it? But he couldn’t exactly say that to Sen, so he’d done his best to be supportive and wished them well.

He rifled through his desk, which had none of the haphazard organization, the orderly chaos he was used to in his own room, and eventually found the book of poetry that Sen had lent him for the winter. Not that Geth was much for poetry, but maybe it would be _something_ like having Sen here.

He left his room, handed his letter off to a servant, and found a reclined wooden chair facing the rolling hills of their land. Thankfully, the copy Sen had given him was the one in translation, so Geth didn’t have to stumble through trying to translate poetic High Elvish all the way through, but it wasn’t exactly a riveting narrative. Or a narrative at all, half the time.

Geth kept reading anyway, and soon, little glimpses of Sen came through in the lines. Phrases he’d heard him say in passing, or lines that he’d tried to set to song. The poem Geth was reading now was a pastoral ode–the worst kind of poetry, in Geth’s estimation. Poets loved to pretend the countryside was perfect, when in reality it was desolate and bare and full of poor people. But the lack of people was probably a bonus to a high elf asshole who looked down on humans.

Geth wrinkled his nose. But this was Sen’s favorite poet, so he kept reading.

 _The gold-licked sunlight stretched itself across the vale_ , Tsaer Ellarion wrote, and in that line, maybe there was a little truth. Geth looked up at his family’s land and noticed the sunlight dance across the grapevines. And faintly, almost imperceptibly, he could feel the hum of life that Sen had pointed him to that day he’d been helping with his magic.

He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and snapped, and a shower of sparks fell around his head.

Maybe Sen was onto something after all with all this poetry business.

* * *

_Dear Geth,_

_I’m not sure when you’ll find this–I’m slipping it into your copy of Songs for Corellon Larethian before you go, in the hope that you don’t need to wait for couriers to get our letters back and forth. I know you aren’t as much the avid poetry reader, but I trust that if boredom or loneliness get to you, you might actually read the book I’ve given you. _

_Whatever happens, can we promise to spend next winter together? Not just talk about it, but actually do it? I know I can’t be angry with Grandfather for being ill, but I’m angry about it. I didn’t want to get your hopes up until I was sure, but Father had hinted that I might be allowed to go with you to the vineyards for a month of the winter–until we all got stuck staying in Waterdeep instead._

_For my part, I’m determined to make the most of the time that I’ll have with Great-Aunt Jhess, so know that you’ll only be missing long sessions of me trying and failing to cast cantrips. And when I see you again, hopefully I will actually be able to cast something!_

_I’ll miss you every minute._

_Love,_

_Alsendur_

* * *

_Nightal 8_

_Sen,_

_I just found your letter! It was NOT in my copy of Songs for Corellon, which I actually have been reading, I’ll have you know. One of the servants unpacked all of my things and put it in a drawer and DID NOT TELL ME. Honestly, I should have him let go, but I’m in too good of a mood._

_YES, I promise to spend next winter with you. I can promise a lot more than that, if you’ll ask. I already said that if you’re at New Olamn, I’ll stay in the Deep with you, even if it’s dreadful. Or we can all go to the coast with your family, or you can come to the vineyards with me. It’s a good way to actually spend time with Tasha, since it’s the only time she’s not so infuriatingly busy. It makes her more restless, but kinder. You would like Winter Tasha. She cracks more jokes and reads philosophy and bores me by forcing me to answer questions like what is justice? and how do you know that something is right? and when is a cost too high? My answers are always wrong, of course, but that’s half the game. The only fun of it I can find is coming up with the answers that will piss her off the most, and then she spends literal hours trying to convince me that I’m wrong, as if I actually believed what I said! _

_But let me also say that you better not master any spells without me. I want to see you the moment it happens. Or if not the moment, within the hour. As is, it’ll be three days before I even get your letter, and then I’ll pour a celebratory toast and write you back and you’ll receive my congratulations another three days later, and that’s simply unacceptable._

_I know that sounds selfish, but–––_

_Maybe it is selfish. I don’t care. I hereby forbid you from making any great strides or milestones while this far from me._

_Have the harbors frozen over yet? Is it too late for me to get there?_

_Yours,_

_Geth Melshimber_

* * *

_Nightal 11_

_Dear Geth,_

_I'd like to disappoint you on the spell progress, but maybe you’ll get your wish after all: it’s only been a week and Jhess has said that she thinks I lack “life experience”. Adrienne has taken this to mean that we should use the winter to meet people of the lower classes, the ones who can’t manage to escape Waterdeep. Maybe she’s right. We dressed down a bit and hit one of the bars the artisans frequent, and it was interesting to hear different kinds of conversations, at least, but I had nothing to add. Adrienne bullshitted her way into a few conversations, but even she was pushing her luck. They could tell we were nobles, and we were nobles invading their space. You’d hate it._

_Grandfather doesn’t seem all that bad, but Father still insists this is his last winter. It’s all a little depressing and morbid. Mother keeps telling me I need to spend time with him or I’ll regret it later, but I never know what to say, so I just play. He does like the harp._

_At least I can do something right, I guess._

_I wish you were here to brighten the gloom of it all. Adrienne sends her love as well._

_Love,_

_Sen_

* * *

_Nightal 16_

_Dearest Alsendur,_

_Don’t worry about Jhess. You’ll get the hang of it soon. Maybe you just need to stop overthinking it and worrying so much. You have it in you. Don’t stress it. Just play your music and think about me and forget about trying to impress her or anyone else. It’s like they always say, you have to believe in yourself before anyone else can believe in you. Of course, I believe in you already, so maybe that saying is bullshit._

_I would hate your little trips to craftsmen’s bars! How did you guess? And you’re right: you are invading their space. The city works because everyone stays in their own lanes. Servants don’t want to be friends with us anymore than we want to be friends with them, and honestly, if you try too hard to be chummy with people below you, you’ll only regret it later. They’ll think you’re actually friends and expect you to bail them out of every scrape, or they’ll think you’re looking for something out of them, or they’ll think they can get away with not doing their job because they’re friends with their employer’s son. Believe me: I’ve seen all of it. That’s my life experience. I’m too charming for my own good. That’s why I have to be so brusque to the help, you see. I’m not trying to be an asshole. I just know what happens if a warm word is taken the wrong way. But maybe you have to learn this for yourself. Life experience, and all. _

_Your grandfather is incredibly to have you play harp for him in his trying days. Have patience and play. I’m sure it helps more than any words, anyway. I wish I were there to hear you play, too._

_Write again soon._

_Yours,_

_G. Melshimber_

* * *

_Nightal 18_

_Dear Geth,_

_Let me first say that I love my family dearly._

_But I want to murder all of them. I know you always want the details, so I am sending you a list of their offenses. Send help._

_ Grandfather Medver: Has made me play “Ode to the Night Tarrasque” THIRTY-TWO TIMES in a row. I tried to tell him I could play anything else, but no! He insists. And he’s dying, and he’s the Patriarch, so he gets what he wants. Thirty-two fucking times. I will spare him from wishes for death because his passing only elevates... _

_ Aunt Lassail: Where to even begin. I shouldn’t put anything that would detract from the future Matriach of House Majarra down in writing, but if she does half of what she says she intends to do, I will resign from this family in protest–and you know, I think, how loath I would be to leave this family. She says she wants to “trim the fat”, but the fat she wants to trim is everything that makes this House worthwhile. _

_ Garred: The one thing I can say to Garred’s credit is that if he has faults, they are Lassail’s fault. But that doesn’t mean he isn’t horrible to be around. I know in public he comes off polished and perfect and like he has everything put together, and he’s clever and talented and everything he should be, but I swear, it’s like the unhappiness and anxiety radiate off of him and it’s almost contagious. You’d think it would be okay over winter, with Season over, but of course, the problem is that he isn’t afraid of Tasheene or Osvaldo or Lander Gauntyl or anyone. It’s his mother, and there’s no escaping her. _

_ Arveene: The inspiration for this letter. She is being the absolute WORST. Vee thinks she knows EVERYTHING. I know Tasha also acts like she knows everything, but Tasha kind of does. Arveene does not. She just thinks she does. She keeps giving me unsolicited advice about the Presentation Ball and my debut and Season and frankly, I don’t want her advice. She wasn’t in a situation anything like ours, and she has no idea what I’m trying to juggle between knowing that I definitely want to be with you and knowing that I only have one Debut Season and–in her words–“I’d better make it count.” She seems to think that no one will pay attention to my debut because you and Vera will steal all the thunder, and really Vera will steal all the thunder, because Vera is single and up for grabs and the whole Season is going to be about Vera and Who Vera Might Choose. Vera can take it, honestly. That sounds awful to me. I want to have fun, not have everyone watching my every move. I wish she’d just shut up and let me be. _

_ Adrienne: Normally fine. I love Adrienne. She’s great. But she also is in one of her Moods where she fights with our parents all the time and I just want to have a pleasant winter and practice harp and not get in the middle of stupid family fights, but I keep getting dragged in, either on her behalf or trying to calm her down after and having her snap at me and then go off drinking without me. She’s the least of my worries, but even when she’s just the slightest bit annoying it ruins everything, because she’s supposed to be what keeps me sane. I think the winter is starting to get to her. _

_ Algavain: Nothing new here. He’s just annoying as fuck. _

_ Father: Keeps fighting with Adrienne, see above. She’s his absolute favorite so it just swings between shouting matches and doting on her and it gets so old, I swear. _

_ Mother: Like Arveene, but worse. I can at least grant that she has actual life experience and might know some things. Except her worry is that I won’t know the right thing to say to the right person or I’ll forget who some important boring old man is, so she just keeps drilling me. And pouncing on me for everything. Suddenly my language is too coarse, my stories aren’t riveting enough, my eyes roll too much, I answer questions wrong… You name it. _

_And there you have it. Oh, wait, no. I left out Jhess._

_ Great-Aunt Jhess: Still furious at her life experience comment. How am I supposed to get life experience if I’m trapped in a villa all day training for my debut and having relatives fuss about my future? Maybe she should convince them to let me go on a proper adventure and then I could get some experience. _

_If I’m not at New Olamn this fall (and maybe I won’t be, unless the Presentation ball gives me the requisite experience for me to cast Prestidigitation), I absolutely need to come to the vineyards with you next year. I hear the harbor is already half-frozen or I’d leave now, whatever they say about Grandfather’s prospects. He’ll have plenty of other Majarras to be at his side. I can’t take it anymore._

_Love,_

_Sen_

* * *

_Nightal 23_

_Dear Geth,_

_I only just received your letter. The weather is getting so much worse already–three days ago we had a terrible storm off the waters. Your advice is all very wise, I’m sure._

_I don’t have much to say right now, but I didn’t want you thinking I’d ignored you._

_Love,_

_Sen_

* * *

_Nightal 29_

_Dearest Sen,_

_If you were able to get here, I would love it. And I’m sure my family would welcome you too. But I’m sure your own family would be terribly distraught, and I would absolutely die if anything should happen to you in the winter storms or on icy roads._

_Don’t worry, though. Soon enough these things won’t be problems anymore. We’ll have our debuts and they will be perfect, no matter what, because we are fascinating people from important families and everyone will want to welcome us into Society. And at the end of the parties, we don’t have to worry about about impressing the right marriage prospects or knowing who would make a good match, like Vera does. (I’m still furious that Oz did that to her, even if I’m not surprised.) We’ll have a great Season, because we’ll have each other, and you never have to listen to your obnoxious family members again if you don’t want to. _

_And then we won’t have to put our lives on hold anymore. No one will keep us out of the rooms of adult conversation, and you can pursue whatever adventuring you want to pursue, and you and I can finally make a new set of promises to renew and replace the ones we made back in the City of the Dead. I know I’m not supposed to talk about it until after Presentation, so I won’t, but everything can be different within just a few months, if we want it to be. And I do._

_Query apropos of nothing: is a marriage proposal in the City of the Dead an uncouth bad omen that no sane person would plan or a delightfully poetic gesture of the bond of love being stronger than anything other than death? I am definitely not asking for any purposes relating to us. Just settling yet another debate I was having with Tasha._

_One month is almost over! Brace yourself for the next: I hear that Hammer is the worst of Waterdeep winter. But by the time you get this letter, it will be 1490, and Our Year will have come._

_Yours, now and always,_

_Geth_


End file.
